


Keep Me without Chains

by swansaloft (orphan_account)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Tropes Ahoy! basically, magical mishaps, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/swansaloft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working to stop a potential villain, Regina and Emma accidentally stumble upon a curse that lands them bound in magical handcuffs...together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place six weeks post-Neverland. Henry is Henry, no Pan/curse, etc. A bit of Snowing on the side, but not really enough to warrant a tag. TW for brief mentions of past abuse.
> 
> Many thanks to the fantastic andreblomvkist for being my super talented artist and partner in crime (and for putting up with my abysmally slow writing skills). You can check out the awesome cover [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/SQBBSept2015/works/4691588)!

**Day One, Part One: Before**

 

“Tell me again why we decided 6 AM was a good time for a wild goose chase?” Emma grumbles, clutching her coffee close, willing the caffeine to circulate more quickly through her system.

 

“Why? Are we putting a dent in your social life, Sheriff?” Regina asks, raising an eyebrow. The woman looks perfectly put together even standing outside the sheriff’s station at the fucking break of dawn, hair perfectly coiffed, lipstick perfectly applied, and her quiver of sarcastic remarks apparently perfectly polished and ready to fly.

 

Emma, however, needs some time before the fog of grouchiness abates and she is ready for their usual language of mild insults and clever repartee, so she settles for an eyeroll. But even that is ruined as she yawns widely enough that her jaw cracks.

 

“Yeah, right. ‘Cause I _totally_ have one of those.”

 

“The pirate seems to wish you would,” Regina says, referring to the previous evening and the scene Hook had made in the middle of Granny’s in his latest disastrous attempt to “woo” Emma. She hadn’t even known a single person could hold that many balloons without floating away.

 

Emma snorts at the memory. “Um, no thanks.”

 

“Oh? Is eau de rotting fish and leather not to your taste?”

 

“ _God_ , Regina, do you ever shut up?” The words are tinged with only mild annoyance and not as harsh as they could be, but somewhere deep down, Emma still kind of wants to apologize. She swallows the impulse, though, as Regina shrugs, not looking at all perturbed by the rude outburst.

 

“As you wish.”

 

Emma shouldn’t be surprised. This is what they do, after all. After Neverland, Emma had thought that maybe they could be friends. But when they returned to Storybrooke and the first few days passed without any incident, the looming danger that had brought them together faded.

 

It is easy to slip back into old habits, and truth be told, Regina still drives her crazy sometimes. And she knows - Regina has certainly mentioned often enough - that the feeling is mutual. But they have learned how to coexist as Henry’s moms, and they are, well, _probably_ friends - of a sort. They just go about it in their own way.

 

Emma’s never been great at the whole “friends” thing anyway. She doesn’t have much practice in that area, and she doesn’t make a habit of making herself vulnerable, flat-out _hates_ it, actually. Hates feeling like she’s peeled off the top layer of her skin and is just sitting there, waiting for someone to poke at her tender flesh with a stick. She’d had to do it in Neverland, strip herself bare heedless of the people around her, and being back in Storybrooke with a gold star and a leather jacket to hide behind is a relief. She can absolutely speak the language of sarcasm and light antagonism to mask what she’s pretty sure is a mutual grudging respect and fledgeling friendship.

 

And okay, yeah, there might also be a fucking massive one-sided crush and tendency to get all kinds of secret tingles when the other is around. But Emma’s taking that one to the grave.

 

Just then, Emma’s parents pull up to the sheriff’s station, Emma having left the apartment a few minutes before them so she could walk over and grab a large coffee from Granny’s. She sighs at the sight. She loves David and Mary Margaret. She really does. But six weeks have passed since Neverland, and this whole living together thing is seriously too much, especially since they are - Emma flinches inwardly - trying for another baby.

 

She needs to move out.

 

The only problem is where to go. As Storybrooke was created for a specific number of people, there’s not exactly a lot of available real estate options.

 

But that is another problem for another time, so she steps forward to greet them and get this party started. After all, what is the point of being up at the ass-crack of dawn if you’re not going to be productive?

 

“Morning, guys. Let’s get a move on.”

 

The other three climb into the cruiser along with her, and they set off toward the old farmhouse on the edge of town.

 

The night before, a few local teenagers had dropped by the station, spooked and more than a little inebriated. They had been out by the old, abandoned farmhouse - though they got cagey when Emma asked what they were doing there in the first place - and reported hearing really loud, weird noises coming from the forest. She had sent them home once their parents showed up, giving them nothing more than a strict verbal warning about underage drinking and trespassing.

 

Emma had driven out to the house, but nothing had seemed amiss, and she had not heard any strange noises. She had been ready to write it off as kids with overactive - not to mention intoxicated - imaginations, but David had insisted they should come back the next day to check. With Neverland fresh in her mind, Emma had agreed, not wanting any new threats to take them by surprise.

 

Regina speaks up from the passenger seat as they near the farmhouse. “What is it we’re looking for, exactly?”

 

Emma sighs. “We don’t really know. The kids who reported it last night weren’t exactly helpful. They just said there were strange noises coming from the forest, and it freaked them out.”

 

“And I’m here because?”

 

“David thought it would be a good idea for us to have all our bases covered. You’re here to ensure there’s nothing magical happening.”

 

“In the entire forest?” Regina asks flatly, and Emma shakes her head.

 

“No, I’m thinking just a quarter of a mile in or so, along the property line. Any further away than that, and it wouldn’t have bothered anyone. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

 

Regina just nods in response.

 

Driving always wakes Emma up and helps her focus, so she is more alert once she pulls the squad car up to the old farmhouse, and the four of them spill out. Technically, there is no reason for Mary Margaret to even be here, but she had insisted on joining them, had spouted something about missing the togetherness of Neverland even if she didn’t miss the circumstances. Emma had seriously wanted Regina to be there at that moment so they could share an eyeroll.

 

They split up, David and Mary Margaret covering the east side and Emma and Regina heading toward the west.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Emma is about to give up the search. The abandoned farmhouse is just that - abandoned, with no traces of anything more suspicious than a few empty beer cans on the porch. And the forest is not looking any more promising. Unless you are her mother or someone equally interested in birds or moss or other nature crap, there is nothing interesting happening in these woods. She doesn’t see anything that looks remotely magical unless you count the size of the squirrels here, because seriously, those things are massive.

 

Just then, Emma hears Regina calling her name, and she turns toward the sound.

 

Though she doesn’t see anyone, she heads toward where the voice came from. Emma maneuvers around a particularly large tree just as the brunette appears from the opposite direction.

 

“What’s up, Regina?”

 

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

 

Emma frowns. “Why would I have anything to tell you?”

 

“You called my name!”

 

“Um, no, you called mine.”

 

Regina heaves a sigh. “Emma, I am in no mood for-”

 

The brunette is cut off by a sudden flash, and Emma and Regina are thrown together with excruciating force before collapsing onto the ground.

 

**Day One, Part Two: After**

 

When Emma opens her eyes again, she sees nothing but a haze of green. She blinks a couple times and refocuses, and the blur transforms into a canopy of trees with sunlight filtering through here and there, a concerned parent peering down from each side of her.

 

But if her parents are both here, then-

 

“Regina!” Emma calls, but she can see no trace of the other woman when she turns her head in either direction.

 

Mary Margaret is saying something, but it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, Emma’s thudding heartbeat covering it up as she starts to panic. _Where is Regina?_

 

She’s about to call out again when she hears a groan from directly behind her.

 

Emma isn’t sure if she’s ready to sit up just yet, but she feels around with the arm that is already thrown over her head, and she barely has to move an inch before she comes into contact with another hand.

 

“Regina?”

 

“Emma?” The voice is confused, and David stays with Emma while Mary Margaret shifts over to check on Regina.

 

“Are you okay?” David asks, and Emma takes a moment to take stock of her own body. She aches in a few places, but nothing too severe. There’s a slight tang of iron lingering in her mouth; she must have bitten her tongue when she collided with Regina. But nothing major feels wrong, so she nods and moves to sit up.

 

“What happened?” she asks.

 

“We were hoping you could tell us,” David says. “There was a bright light, and Mary Margaret and I came running. When we found you, you were both just lying on the ground.”

 

“How long were we out?”

 

“Only about a minute.”

 

“Huh.”

 

Emma blinks around the small clearing they seem to be sitting in. Weird, she could have sworn there had been a tree right where David is sitting. Oh, well. She’s probably disoriented from the fall. And despite arriving in this world inside a tree, she has never claimed to be any sort of forest expert. She hadn’t exactly had a Girl-Scout-merit-badge kind of childhood.

 

Emma moves to stand, only to have to lean on David, because the world is still spinning around her. It calms down after a few seconds, though, and then she turns to see Regina climbing to her feet as well. The older woman does not lean on Mary Margaret, though Emma can see her plant her feet and use her hands to try to find her center of balance.

 

“Do you have any idea what that was?” Emma questions, and Regina shakes her head and clears her throat before answering.

 

“No. Magical, obviously. But no damage seems to be done, other than a few probable bruises. Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, about the same as you. A couple bruises, nothing major.”

 

“Hm. It seems this was nothing more than a....prank? Or a possibly distraction,” she adds, her brow wrinkling at the idea.

 

“Distraction from what?” Mary Margaret asks, and they all look around. There are birds still chirping, wind still rustling through the trees. Nothing seems amiss. Emma touches a sore spot on her ribs where she’s pretty sure one of Regina’s elbows caught her.

 

“I don’t know. It isn’t, necessarily. I’m only thinking out loud.” Regina turns in place and peers suspiciously at their surroundings. “That was strong magic, and it would be a waste of time and effort to put something like that together when it serves no purpose. Especially since I sensed nothing before it went off, and concocting a spell that is impervious to detection is particularly complicated. Only the most powerful and skilled of magical practitioners can do it.”

 

“So...Gold?” Emma asks, though it doesn’t really seem like his style.

 

Regina shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Me neither. But who else is there? I’m pretty sure you didn’t set a trap for yourself, and the only other magic users here besides us are the fairies.”

 

Regina only emits a soft “hmm,” and takes a couple steps toward where they were standing when the flash happened.

 

Emma absently rubs at her wrist, which she suddenly realizes is aching fiercely. She must have twisted it in the fall.

 

“What, you think Blue has something to do with this? Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret says, defending the fairy who has never been anything other than wonderful to her.

 

“Maybe it has to do with the noises the kids heard last night,” David speculates.

 

“So, what? A really skilled wizard somehow finds out about Storybrooke and comes to town just to sit in the woods and make loud noises and set pointless traps?” Emma scoffs.

 

“I agree. The two do not seem connected,” Regina states, but her attention seems focused on her left wrist, which she is frowning at and rubbing. Emma sympathizes, because her right wrist is aching fiercely at the moment, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to have to invest in a brace. “However, there is always a possibility. Did the witnesses say anything to describe the sound?”

 

“They said they couldn’t describe the noises, except that they were loud and kind of disturbing. But again, they had been drinking, so....”

 

“Helpful.”

 

“Tell me about it. I’m gonna check around the- _OW_!” Emma’s attempt to step away and examine the surrounding area is thwarted when agony suddenly shoots through her wrist, sharp and insanely intense. Emma has no idea why her immediate reflex is to step backwards, but she does, and the pain lessens immediately.

 

“The _hell_?” Emma exclaims, looking down at the offending appendage. She turns back around when it registers that Regina yelped at the same time she did.

 

“Regina…?” Emma just lets her name hang there, questioning, and Regina looks just as puzzled as she feels. Emma takes a few steps closer to her, and the pain is suddenly completely gone from her wrist, as if it had never existed at all.

 

Regina peers at Emma’s wrist before looking down at her own and flexing her fingers, as though testing that everything works correctly.

 

“Are you two alright?” Mary Margaret asks, glancing back and forth between her daughter and Regina.

 

“I...I don’t know,” Emma says. “I think so. Now.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Regina interjects grimly.

 

“What do you mean? It’s fine. It was some weird, temporary pain curse, maybe? That makes a little more sense than-ow, _ow_. Okay, stop, Regina. _Fuck_.” Regina had started striding away a few seconds before, and the pain had erupted in Emma’s wrist again as a result. Regina says nothing, just turns and starts to walk back to Emma. But Emma can see her teeth are clinched, her nostrils flared, and she is breathing heavily. Emma’s not the only one in intense pain here.

 

The hurt lessens with every step she takes, and once Regina is close again, it abates completely. There’s nothing, no lingering traces of heat, not a twinge of even mild discomfort. Emma would think she had imagined it, but there is absolutely no way she could have made up pain that intense.

 

“It’s as I suspected. We appear to be in a magical bind of some sort.”

 

“You can say that again,” Emma mutters.

 

“No, I mean a literal bind. Like a rope. Or handcuffs.”

 

Emma shoots her a look. “Yeah, I know what ‘bind’ means, Regina. I’m not a total idiot. But...why? And how?”

 

Regina sighs. “I don’t know. I need to test something. Walk with me.”

 

David moves aside with a frown as Emma and Regina take a few cautious steps in the direction of the farmhouse. They are several yards away when Regina turns around and retreats back to their position, Emma following close behind.

 

“Well, the good news is that we don’t appear to be bound to the location. Only to each other,” Regina announces upon their return.

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘good.’”

 

“Well, it’s better than being stuck with your charming company in the middle of the woods. At least this way we can get back to my vault and try to figure out a way to break the curse.”

 

“Good point.”

 

“I suggest we finish going over the area, though I doubt we’ll find anything. Then Emma and I will go to my vault. Hopefully we can fix this before we meet Henry for lunch.”

 

“Should we all stay together?” Mary Margaret asks.

 

“No, we’ll cover the ground more quickly if we split up,” Emma says. She turns to David, holding up her phone. “Call if you find anything, okay? Otherwise we’ll meet back at the squad car in ten.”

 

Mary Margaret and David both nod, then set off in the opposite direction.

 

The next ten minutes are uneventful as can be. They find nothing at all out of the ordinary and meet up with her parents, who report the same thing.

 

Something occurs to Emma on the drive back, and she glances over at Regina, who is staring out the passenger side window.

 

“Hey, did you really not say my name earlier?”

 

“What?”

 

“Right before it happened. You were annoyed at me, because you thought I had called your name, and I hadn’t. And if you really didn’t say mine…”

 

Regina’s shoulders stiffen as she sits up straighter. “You’re right. I had assumed-”

 

“Yeah, I know what you assumed.”

 

“Well, I suppose I should apologize for my presumption. But it really did sound like you, and I am not typically given to hallucinations.”

 

“What could do that? Imitate our voices so well?”

 

“Any number of things. Enchanted objects, spells, magical creatures-”

 

“Really good ventriloquists,” Emma adds, keeping a completely straight face, and Regina rolls her eyes even as she smiles.

 

“Possibly. Though I’m fairly certain we can cross that one off the list.”

 

“You never know. Hey, maybe the Phantom is from the Enchanted Forest! There aren’t any Storybrooke residents named Christine, are there? Maybe we could start there.”

 

Regina swivels toward her, surprised. “I didn’t take you as a Lereaux fan.”

 

“Nope. But I _am_ a movie fan.”

 

“Ooh, me, too!” Mary Margaret pipes up from the back. “Gerard Butler’s so dreamy.”

 

Regina grimaces and turns back to the window.

 

“Hi, you might remember me? Your husband?” David interjects from beside her in the back seat.

 

“Oh, Charming, you know you’re the only one I love. No need to be jealous just because someone in Hollywood pulls scruff off better than you do.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

“Charming…”

 

Emma is the one gagging now, wishing the rearview mirror would not give her such an up-close view of her parents and their disgustingly adorable flirting.

 

“Save it for the apartment, okay, guys? We’re almost there.” And what they will be doing once they arrive is firmly behind a ten-foot-thick blockade in Emma’s mind.

 

“Sorry, honey,” Mary Margaret giggles, and Emma rolls her eyes.

 

It is a relief once they stop at the sheriff’s station, and her parents tumble out of the squad car in a suspicious hurry.

 

Mary Margaret stops on the spot and spins around, tapping on Regina’s window. The brunette rolls it down, and Mary Margaret peers in at the two of them.

 

“Are you really alright? Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“We’re fine,” Regina answers. “And as soon as we get to some of my supplies, we’ll be out of this in no time.”

 

“Okay, great! See you at Granny’s,” Mary Margaret chirps, and she whirls back around, practically hovering on air as she joins her husband in the car and they drive away.

 

“Well, that was disturbing,” Regina remarks, and Emma lets out a bark of laughter.

 

“You’re telling me. So...to the vault?”

 

The brunette nods. “To the vault.”

 

-

 

“Okay, let’s try this again. Slowly,” Emma says.

 

It’s three hours later, and their several attempts to break the curse have been to no avail. Regina is growing more frustrated, Emma more impatient, and they are taking a small break from magical potions and moving onto testing the specifics of their situation, hoping that might lend any clues. It is also good information to have if for some reason they are unable to break the curse within the next hour or so before they have to go meet Henry.

 

Regina nods tersely in response and walks a few steps with no repercussions. Once she hits about five feet away from where Emma stands, Emma feels the first traces of discomfort in her wrist. Regina stops. The pain does not get any worse.

 

“Do you feel that?” Regina asks, turning in place to face Emma.

 

“Yes.”

 

Regina takes a step toward Emma, and the faint ache abates. A step back, and it starts again. Like a bracelet that is just a little too warm, a little too tight for comfort.

 

Regina stays in place for a few seconds. “I wonder…” she mutters, and she glances at her watch.

 

A full minute passes, and nothing changes. The instant Regina takes another tiny step away from Emma, however, the discomfort heightens into mild pain, though nothing unmanageable. The odd thing about it is that Emma has the growing urge to follow Regina. Not only because she knows that then the burning will stop, but it is almost as though something underneath the pain is actively pulling her toward the other woman.

 

“Worse,” Emma says, and Regina nods.

 

“Me, too.”

 

One small, slow step at a time, Regina moves until neither of them can stand it anymore. She is ten feet away, and Emma’s sweating up a storm, her fists and teeth clenched, agony racking through her arm, from her elbow to the tips of her fingers. The urge to move toward Regina is unmanageable, and when Regina tries to take another step, Emma breaks down and stretches her arm out in her direction just as the brunette begins walking back toward Emma. She quickly moves back into the safe zone, leaning against the wall Emma has been bracing herself against. They are both still breathing hard, bodies exhausted from fighting the pain, though said hurt has completely disappeared yet again.

 

“I couldn’t make it any further,” Regina says, and there’s resignation in that statement, a wariness of admitting weakness of any kind.

 

“I couldn’t either. I moved at the same time you did.”

 

Regina glances at her. “Hmm.”

 

“So...ten feet, then.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I mean, five, really. Five before anything bad starts to happen. But ten, max.”

 

Regina eyes the space in front of them as though it is her fiercest enemy. “It would seem.”

 

“Well, this is just great.”

 

“Not exactly the word that comes to mind.”

 

“I thought you would appreciate sarcasm more than profanity.”

 

Regina shoots her a wryly amused glance. “I have spent enough time in your company to be aware that you swear, dear.” She turns back away with a frown. “Besides, I would say this situation is more than enough to warrant profanity.”

 

“Um, duh.”

 

It’s kind of unnerving how much Emma really, _really_ wants the next word out of Regina’s mouth to be a resounding “ _fuck_ ,” because yeah, she’s heard the other woman swear before, but not often and never the f-word. For some reason, that seems like it would be hilarious, not to mention weirdly sexy.

 

But of course Regina doesn’t do anything so crass. She straightens her posture, frees herself from the support of the wall, and adjusts her suit jacket.

 

“Well, there’s no time to lose. I have another idea.” Regina waves her hand in a complicated gesture, and a wisp of purple smoke wraps itself around both of their wrists. There’s a tugging sensation for a few seconds, then the purple evaporates into the air.

 

Regina scowls. “Damn.”

 

“So...I’m guessing you don’t really know what’s going on?” Emma ventures. She has kept mostly silent so far, except for occasional commentary that Regina does not seem to appreciate, but it is actually starting to hit her that this might be real. They might be stuck together for a while. And that thought is...well, Emma doesn’t really know what to do with it.

 

“Not exactly,” Regina admits. “It seems similar to a handcuff spell I used to use in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

“Magical handcuffs? Seriously?”

 

“They have their uses.”

 

“I guess that’s true. Prisoners and whatever.”

 

Regina’s mouth smirks devilishly, a flash of pure Evil Queen, and she maintains eye contact with Emma as she quirks a brow and adds, “Among other things.”

 

A wave of liquid lightning totally does _not_ flash through Emma at the words, and she hopes her face conveys nothing more than mild annoyance when she mutters, “Gee, thanks, I really needed that visual.”

 

A visual she is pretty sure she won’t be getting out of her head for the next twenty-odd years, _thanks, Regina_.

 

The other woman only chuckles darkly and flips a page in the book in front of her, moment already forgotten. Clearly she had meant the comment as nothing more than a chance to make Emma uncomfortable for her own amusement, which is pretty par for the course for them. But still, Emma feels a tell-tale tingle in parts of her body that really shouldn’t be mentioned, visions of corsets and cleavage and handcuffs lingering in her imagination, and she shakes her head and wishes for a drink of water.

 

“So,” Emma clears her throat. “Don’t spells have, like, counter-spells?”

 

“What do you know, she _has_ been paying attention,” Regina announces to an imaginary audience, and Emma scowls.

 

“Look, I’m trying here. I don’t want to be stuck in this any more than you do.”

 

“I assumed as much. And as for your question, yes, spells have counter-spells, and I have already tried the one for the handcuff spell. That was the last thing I did. The first attempts were general curse-breaking methods. They typically work on curses that are not strong enough to require True Love’s Kiss or another specific set of circumstances. I am afraid that is all I can think of off the top of my head. I will have to do some research before we try again.”

 

“And Gold?”

 

“Yes. I figured we would go visit him after lunch. See if he has anything to contribute. I’m not certain if he will, though. This magic is...different. It is not quite like anything I’ve dealt with before.”

 

“Oh, good,” Emma deadpans. “And here I was growing hopeful that we might actually _not_ have to be stuck together for the rest of our lives.”

 

“Don’t be dramatic. Between Rumple and myself - and Belle’s researching skills if necessary - you can rest assured we will find a solution. It simply may take a little more time than we would prefer.”

 

“Hey, what about True Love’s Kiss? I could kiss Henry again.”

 

“I don’t think that would work in this case, as Henry is not under this curse. He could kiss you, but if I am correct in the way the magic seems to be working, we would both need to be freed simultaneously, because the hold on one would keep the other tethered. The only instance in which a True Love’s Kiss might work is if the two of us shared it,” Here Emma blanks out for a second, breath frozen in her lungs, before she is able to focus again, “...hardly a possibility. And even that might not work, given that this magic is likely of an origin other than the Enchanted Forest. Feel free to try it, though.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“To kiss Henry again? Like you said just a moment ago?” Regina’s tone is condescending as hell, but Emma is pretty sure it’s just to cover up the slip, to keep from acknowledging the alternate meaning behind her words, because her cheeks have turned a dusky pink and she’s turning away.

 

Emma could keep the subject up, because a flustered Regina is one of her favorite things, but well, it’s not a topic Emma can talk about with any sense of coherency, probably, and she would likely wind up embarrassing herself more than the other woman.

 

So instead she opts for a total topic change, one that has been bothering her for a while.

 

“What are we supposed to do when, erm, nature calls?”

 

Regina’s head rears back, her answering frown almost hilarious in its intensity.

 

“In no realm are you accompanying me to the restroom, Miss Swan, nor I you. We can both stand a bit of mild discomfort and wait in the next room.”

 

Emma wrinkles her nose. “Really, with the _Miss Swan_ again?”

 

“Really, with the stupid questions?” Regina parrots back to her.

 

Emma hesitates. “Um...”

 

“Is this your way of telling me you need to use the restroom before we leave?”

 

“Hey, did you _see_ the size of the coffee I downed this morning? Be glad I didn’t pee all over your floor.”

 

“Always so charming,” Regina deadpans.

 

“Do you have a bathroom here?”

 

“Of course. This way,” Regina says, and she leads Emma to a door in the corner of the room and gestures for Emma to enter. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

“‘Cause that’s not disturbing at all,” Emma mutters, and she sees Regina’s amused half-smile when she turns to shut the door behind her.

 

After Emma has taken care of business, she exits to find Regina standing right where she left her.

 

“It’s so weird that the pain just…stops like that. Like it was never there in the first place”

 

Regina nods as they both move back to the table where they have a few books laid out.

 

“That’s how magical pain works. It was sometimes used in torture and punishments in the Enchanted Forest. The magic communicates directly with the nerves. Essentially, you only _think_ you are feeling pain, but there is no damage actually done to the body. Unfortunately, your body doesn’t know that.” Regina looks down, seeming to draw in on herself. “It never leaves a mark. You can tell yourself again and again that it’s not real. But you still feel it.”  
  


Emma nods, knowing this type of thing falls directly into the Evil Queen’s arena, but the way Regina’s eyes have gone distant, her face carefully blank, makes Emma frown.

 

“Did you-” Emma breaks off, not sure she actually wants to ask the question, hesitant about how to ask it in the first place.

 

“Did I what?” Regina asks, looking up again and meeting her eyes. “Did I magically torture people when I was the Evil Queen? Yes. Anything terrible you can imagine, I probably did all of it and worse.”

 

She’s stark and withdrawn, seeming to use the harsh honesty as a kind of shield, and if Emma were her mother, she would pull Regina in for a hug right now. Or rather, she would try and then find herself on the wrong end of a hex, probably. But she’s just Emma, and she only has the words Regina mistakenly assumed to mean something else. So she offers them up gently.

 

“I was going to ask if someone did it to you.”

 

Regina blinks, clearly taken aback. “Oh.” She seems at a loss for how to answer, finally simply stating, “It was a long time ago.”

 

But Emma has enough scars to know that pain does not always fade with time, and this is clearly a wound that has never healed. Having experienced the magical pain herself, even if for only seconds at a time, Emma finds her heart hurting for the younger version of Regina who had it inflicted on her for who knows what reason.

 

Emma lets the subject drop, though, because Regina clearly does not wish to speak about it.

 

“Well, I’m ready for a burger if you are,” Emma says instead, and her stomach growls in concurrence with her words.

 

“Give me a moment. I’m deciding which of the books to take home for the afternoon.”

 

Emma cocks her head. “Home? Are we not coming back here?”

 

“No. Henry will be with us, and I don’t like him spending time here. After we visit Gold, assuming he does not have an immediate cure for us, I thought we would spend the day at my home. After all, we are certainly not all cramming into the Charming apartment.”

 

“Yeah, no,” Emma agrees. It is cramped enough in the apartment as it is. Adding Regina to the mix sounds like a terrible idea.

 

Besides, she really likes Regina’s couch. It’s overstuffed and crazy soft, and it honestly sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon.

 

If, you know, she actually had the ability to move of her own free will. But beggars can’t be choosers, and she’ll take the mansion over the vault any day. The place still kind of gives her the creeps, especially when she thinks about the fact that they are literally right underneath Regina’s dead parents.

 

Finally, Regina decides on the books she wants to take. She places a few back on the shelves, then she hands Emma a stack and loads up her own arms before they finally leave the vault and head to Granny’s to meet Henry.

 

Neal and Henry are walking up to the diner just as Emma shifts the cruiser into park. Henry’s backpack is slung over his shoulder, stuffed with supplies for his overnight with his biological father. It had been fortuitous timing, actually. Neal had been begging to spend more time with Henry since Neverland, and Emma and Regina had finally relented last week and scheduled it for the previous night. It certainly saved them the trouble of finding a sitter willing to come over at the break of dawn. Technically, Henry is really getting to the age where he does not need a babysitter anymore, but both women are a little too nervous leaving their son alone, given their recent Neverland experience.

 

“Hey, moms!” Henry yells from the sidewalk, waving at them with a giant grin.

 

“Well, he still seems to be in one piece,” Emma jokes with the woman beside her as they both wave back.

 

“No thanks to that clod of a father he has,” Regina answers through her teeth as she smiles at her son through the windshield.

 

The older woman climbs out of the car first, and Emma stays behind for a few seconds to shuffle a couple loose wrappers - which she is surprised Regina hasn’t commented on yet - from the passenger side floorboard into the little trash bag she keeps in the center console. Emma feels the ache in her wrist as the magical shackle makes itself known once again, and Regina shoots her a look over Henry’s shoulder as they hug, clearly wondering why she is taking so long to follow.

 

“Hey, kid!” Emma says, emerging from the car, grateful when her wrist returns to normal.

 

Henry untangles his arms from around Regina and shoots over to give Emma an enthusiastic hug, and she laughs as she wraps her arms around him with equal force.

 

“I shall call him Squishy, and he shall be mine. He shall be my Squishy,” Emma quotes as she holds on for a few seconds longer, crushing him to her.

 

Henry giggles, protesting, “Maa _aaa_.” He starts to back away, so she lets him go.

 

Neal just waves awkwardly and answers their questions that _no_ nothing went wrong and _yes_ it was fun. He departs with a quick hug from Henry after declining their offer to join them for lunch, clearly sensing it is not entirely sincere.

 

As soon as they finish getting situated in their booth and Ruby brings their order, Emma shoots Regina a silent questioning look, and Regina nods back at her.

 

“So...Henry, we need to talk about something.”

 

Henry stops fiddling with his straw wrapper and looks at each of them in turn, his face clouding immediately. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is one of you hurt?” Henry asks anxiously, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, we’re fine-”

 

“Is it Grandma and Grandpa?”

 

Emma hates that the kid immediately leaps to these dramatic assumptions and imagines the worst. While it is probably good in some ways to have such an active imagination, the fact is that she can’t even blame it on that. His life is simply that dramatic. Scenarios that should be outlandish are entirely within the realm of possibility. It’s something that is difficult for Emma to deal with, and she’s not even a kid.

 

Then again, she can’t really blame him for jumping to conclusions. She probably shouldn’t have started the conversation in such a mysterious and dramatic fashion.

 

“What Emma is trying to say, dear,” Regina breaks in, “is that there is no reason to worry. We have simply found ourselves in a...strange set of circumstances.”

 

“What do you mean?” Henry asks, clearly puzzled.

 

“Your mom and I, well- Your mom was helping me with a case this morning, and we stumbled into this curse-type thing. At least we think that’s what happened.” Henry’s eyes widen, and Emma rushes to continue. “No one was hurt.” _Not badly, at least,_ she adds internally, thinking of the spot on her ribs that is likely going to turn some nasty colors later.

 

“So what happened?”

 

Emma glances over at Regina, who takes her cue and answers. “Essentially, Emma and I are tethered together for the time being, due to a magical bond that refuses to break.”

 

“What? How?”

 

“The best way to describe it is like magical handcuffs. Except we are handcuffed to each other.”

 

Henry frowns, peering down at their hands. Regina’s holding her fork and Emma’s hands are both clutching her burger. “But your hands aren’t together right now.”

 

“Yeah, thankfully we aren’t stuck _that_ close together,” Emma says with a smile. “We can move a few feet without any problems. But we measured it earlier, and anything more than ten feet apart is impossible.”

 

Henry sits there for a few seconds, his little brows furrow adorably, and it’s amazing how much he looks like Regina sometimes. He takes a bite of his macaroni and cheese while he thinks over the situation before he finally nods. As though his mothers being tethered together by magic is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

 

“But there’s nothing wrong?”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say _nothing_ -” Emma starts.

 

“But you’re both okay? You’re just…stuck together?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

Henry’s brow wrinkles again as a new thought occurs to him. “But why would anyone do that?

 

“That’s what we would like to know,” Regina answers. “If someone wanted a good laugh, they would have had to be there to enjoy it. There doesn’t seem to be much of a point to this at all.”

 

“It just seems kind of dumb. Especially to do it to you two. I mean, your magic combined is, like, _super_ strong. So of all the people to put in this curse, picking you is just stupid.”

 

“I’m thinking it was more of a wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing,” Emma says.

 

Regina makes a sound like she’s going to respond, but then doesn’t, eyeing Henry instead.

 

“But you guys can break it, right?” he asks.

 

“I believe we can,” Regina says. “It’s not as easy as we thought it would be at first, but we will figure out something. We’re actually going to visit Gold after we’re finished here.”

 

Henry nods his understanding as he stuffs his mouth with more macaroni and cheese.

 

The door to the diner opens, and Emma’s parents step in, looking all flushed and happy, probably just having emerged from a post-coital nap. Which, if Emma skips over the coitus part - ew -and focuses on the nap, she is totally jealous, because instead of sleeping, she has been dealing with an annoyed brunette all morning.

 

Emma waves her parents over, and she and Regina leave Henry with the Charmings while they set off to Gold’s shop.

 

Unfortunately, there does not seem to be anything he can do for them, either. He and Regina agree that the magic is definitely not of Enchanted Forest origin, but he cannot place it. There is no tangible totem of the magic for him to test, either. He offers to brew a potion that could determine the type of magic, but it will take-

 

“Three _days_?” Emma bursts out, the words emerging without her permission. And pretty loudly, too. Whoops.

 

”I am not excited about the prospect either, but there is no reason to make us all deaf in the meantime,” Regina says pointedly.

 

“But...three days? Before we even know what it is we’re dealing with, much less how to break it?”

 

“Be grateful it’s nearly a full moon,” Gold says. “It could take much longer. Magic cannot be rushed.”

 

“Plus there is always a possibility we will figure it out ahead of time. We still have plenty of research to do. The sooner we can get out of this, the better.”

 

Gold’s eyes glint with amusement as he takes in the two of them. “You certainly have fallen into a situation. The Evil Queen and the Savior. Oh, my, my.”

 

Regina looks suddenly annoyed, rolling her eyes at the man. “We can deal with it like adults. I am certain we have both been in much worse situations.”

 

“I’ll take this over Neverland any day of the week,” Emma says fiercely, a shudder working its way down her spine as she thinks of Henry in danger.

 

“Without a doubt.” Regina matches her fervor, and their eyes meet and hold, and an understanding passes between them. A peace, for the moment anyway.

 

They take their leave after Regina ensures Gold will keep her updated on the progress of the potion, and he also promises to ask Belle to look into their situation as well.

 

The whole meeting only takes half an hour, and the Charmings are just nearing the end of their lunch when Emma and Regina return to pick up Henry. He kisses both of his grandparents goodbye, and before Emma knows it, they’re all shuffling inside 108 Mifflin, Henry taking the stairs two at a time to get up to his room and throw off his shoes.

 

He’ll be back downstairs soon enough, Emma knows.

 

Though Henry usually stays with each of them on an alternating-week basis, they have had a couple days like this before, with Emma and Henry playing video games and Regina in the kitchen making kale enchiladas or three-cheese-and-spinach ravioli.

 

The only difference is that a few hours later, Henry is playing video games alone while Emma and Regina pore through some old, musty tomes, most of which Emma can’t make sense of anyway. Some of them are merely symbols, while others are in languages she can’t read.

 

There are a couple thick volumes that are in pretty straightforward, though antiquated, English, and Emma examines those until she develops a crick in her neck and her eyes start to blur.

 

“Hey, Regina?”

 

“Mmm?” The other woman answers absently, still deeply engrossed in the runes before her.

 

“What time do you want to do dinner?”

 

“Dinner?” That draws Regina out of her haze.

 

“Yeah. It’s getting late. Did you want to make something?”

 

“I’ll probably just make pasta and a side salad, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“Totally.” Emma pauses. “Oh, hey! Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me the secret ingredient in your marinara.”

 

“No, I haven’t,” Regina smirks, then looks back down at her book, effectively ending the discussion.

 

Emma ignores the urge to stick her tongue out at the back of Regina’s head. Barely.

 

An hour later, Emma is starting to get seriously cranky. She is itching to _do_ something. To get up and go for a run, shoot up some aliens with Henry, or even just go for a walk in the damn park. She doesn’t even care, as long as it doesn’t involve being stuck in this room with these stupid books she can’t even concentrate on anymore.

 

Emma is normally good at this. Her positions as both a bail bondsperson and a sheriff have left her with countless hours under her belt spent doing nothing but waiting on stakeouts or wading through endless mind-numbing details to find the one piece she needs.

 

But flipping through barely decipherable books when she doesn’t fully understand the topic - and really has no clue what she’s even looking for - is another story entirely. She has always worked better without a partner, and having one who controls her every move adds a pressure to the situation she is finding hard to deal with.

 

She has to consciously keep her leg from jiggling after the death glare Regina had shot her for it earlier, and that effort alone is making her crazy.

 

Thankfully, when she is about twenty seconds away from exploding, her stomach lets out a loud growl, which causes Regina to glance at her and then up at the clock.

 

“I guess that’s my cue,” she says with an amused smile, and Emma would laugh except she’s too busy standing up and shooting out of the room.

 

She’s a little too ambitious, though, and she stops short when the pain flashes through her wrist. Emma glances impatiently back at the other woman.

 

“Now who’s being the slow poke?”

 

Regina raises an eyebrow, continuing with her normal pace. “Excuse me for not bounding out of the room like a horse at the Kentucky Derby.”

 

When they reach the kitchen, Regina asks, “Would you prefer to prepare the salad or boil the pasta?”

 

“Pasta,” Emma answers without hesitation, because she’s not-so-secretly got the palate of a six-year-old, and she’ll take carbs over leafy vegetables any day of the week.

 

They fall into a surprisingly easy rhythm then. They retrieve the necessary ingredients from the pantry together, Regina pointing out where she keeps the Mason jars of her own homemade marinara sauce. Regina cuts up vegetables, and Emma boils the pasta and heats the sauce. They easily step around each other for the necessary utensils, and Emma goes for plates while Regina grabs the silverware.

 

Dinner is ready a few minutes later, and Henry is excited by the prospect of food when he comes skidding into the kitchen.

 

“Walk, please,” Regina comments absently, not even turning around from the sink.

 

Henry rolls his eyes but obeys, and Emma smothers a laugh at his mirroring of his other mother’s favorite expression.

 

They talk all through dinner, about video games and Henry’s upcoming project for school. Henry is excited about his new friend who shares his Avengers obsession and the fact that they can now trade all their comics back and forth, which is basically like owning twice as many.

 

Emma smiles at how normal everything seems. Only six weeks since Neverland, and the kid doesn’t seem any worse for the wear aside from the occasional nightmare. Then Regina gets up to refill her glass, and Emma’s wrist twinges. She sighs. Why does it seem they can never go more than a few weeks before something bizarre happens? It is too much to ask for some peace for a while?

 

To be fair, maybe a town full of formerly cursed storybook characters isn’t exactly where you should plop down and stay if “normal” is what you’re after. But still.

 

“Could we watch a movie tonight?” Henry asks, even though he sounds resigned, like he already knows the answer. That they’ll be abandoning him for a stack of books again, the thought of which makes Emma want to run out of the house so quickly she would leave a sheriff-shaped hole in the front door.

 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Regina answers, and both Henry and Emma’s heads swivel toward her in disbelief.

 

“Really?” Henry asks with a grin.

 

“Yes. I believe we have done all we can do for the day. I need a break.”

 

Emma is pretty sure Regina is fine with doing more research, could probably go until bedtime, and she is grateful to the other woman for not doing so - and as a result forcing Emma to do the same.

 

After receiving permission, Henry bounds into the living room to pick out a movie for them to watch, and Emma stays behind to help Regina load the dishwasher.

 

“Thanks. For calling off the research for the night. I wasn’t looking forward to going back in there.”

 

“I could tell.”

 

“So...yeah. Thanks.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “No thanks necessary. It was not entirely for you. Believe me, my patience is not as limitless as you seem to believe,” Regina says with a slight self-effacing grin, and then her face turns serious again. “As you know, our situation, while annoying, is not dire. I see no need to push ourselves to exhaustion. And spending time with our son should be our top priority, don’t you agree?”

 

There’s that warm glow that appears in her stomach every time Regina says the words _our son_. Suddenly she’s overwhelmed by a rush of affection for the other woman she doesn’t anticipate, and her tongue feels heavy as she attempts to muster a response that isn’t something really, really stupid. Like stepping forward and-

 

Emma breaks off that train of thought before it can go anywhere and smiles brightly. Too brightly, if Regina’s confused head tilt is anything to go by.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

They finish the dishes and watch the movie with Henry, and they’re at the point where the superhero is about to reveal his identity, when Emma realizes that she’s actually going to be staying overnight here.

 

Which is weird.

 

Surely she and Regina won’t be sharing a bed. She can’t imagine a realm where Regina would allow that.

 

The idea bounces around her head the rest of the evening. Finally, Henry’s bedtime comes around, and Emma concentrates extra hard when they exchange good night kisses, but to no avail. It appears True Love’s Kiss will not be coming to the rescue this time. Henry retires for the night under strict instructions that his flashlight-and-comic-book-under-the-blanket _don’t-think-I-don’t-know-about-that-young-man_ antics will end no later than midnight, and Regina motions for Emma to follow her up the stairs.

 

There’s a room right next to Regina’s that she will be staying in, and Regina assures her the bed is already made up with the finest sheets. Like Emma ever doubted that.

 

“The bed is directly against the wall that this room shares with mine, so we should be close enough.”

 

Then the issue of showering arises, and Regina offers the use of the master bath. Emma agrees, insists that Regina have the first shower, and the brunette surprisingly does not argue. After they make a quick trek (Regina doesn’t want to risk apparating, says it poses a risk of conflicting with the handcuff curse with potentially disastrous consequences) to the cruiser to pick up the spare change of clothes Emma keeps in the trunk, Regina disappears into the shower. Emma plops down on the overstuffed reading chair right outside the door ( _she is in the bedroom of Regina Mills_ and totally playing it cool, thank you very much. Also, it smells amazing in here, different than the rest of the house. She could’ve gone forever without knowing that.). Emma stares at her phone, trying like hell not to imagine what is happening on the other side of the wall. She calls her parents and gives them a quick update, not going beyond the basics, but enough to satisfy their curiosity. Finally, the water shuts off, and a few minutes later, the door opens.

 

Regina steps out of the room, faint wisps of steam escaping along with her, and Emma nearly chokes on her own saliva. She’s wearing a nightie that falls to her lower thigh, along with an accompanying wrap. It is perfectly decent, but it is black and silk and baring the slightest hint of cleavage, and Emma can’t fucking _breathe_.

 

Usually she can ignore this little thing when it comes to Regina. Sure, sometimes she has trouble breathing when the other woman is near, but Emma is only human and reacting to an aesthetically pleasing face.

 

But does the other woman really have to be _this_ attractive? It’s inconsiderate as fuck, really.

 

If she’s honest, Emma would say that her favorite look on Regina - and yes, okay, she has one - up until now is the power suits. But right now, her look is less Investor’s Business Daily and more Victoria’s Secret, and Emma _can’t handle it_.

 

So she bolts through the doorway as soon as Regina steps out of the way, slamming the door behind her, and she can practically hear Regina’s frown from here. She’ll probably be berated for it later, but whatever. Regina is all bluster, and at this point, Emma has stopped believing she has any intention of blowing Emma’s house down and rather thinks she might just enjoy the sound of her own voice.

 

Emma soaps and shampoos and absolutely does _not_ think about Regina Mills the entire time she is in the shower.

 

In fact, there’s a window of about eight whole seconds when Emma realizes she forgot to grab her clothes off the bed and is overcome by a wave of annoyance at herself for being so easily distracted.

 

But then she remembers _why_ she was distracted, and it’s back to the Regina Mills Show in her head. Emma groans and presses her palm to her forehead under the running water. She has to think about something else. Anything else. It’s hard when she can feel the slight pressure and tug on her wrist that implies she and Regina are just a bit further away from each other than the curse would like. But she can try.

 

Emma tries to see how much of the Declaration of Independence she can still recite from fourth grade. She only gets as far as, “We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union,” and she thinks that might be the Constitution anyway.

 

She winds up reciting Nirvana lyrics instead, which leads to singing “Heart-Shaped Box.” She does so at like one level above completely silent, though, because while she is enjoying rocking out under the spray, Emma is under no delusions regarding her ability to carry a tune.

 

Emma wonders absently how long she’s been in here, but she knows it can’t have been more than a few minutes. Emma takes pretty quick showers by most standards, though compared to what she used to do growing up, it is downright lazy. She always takes the time to condition her hair now, a luxury she affords herself because she never got to in her foster homes. Too many kids, not enough bathrooms, foster parents too ready to blame their bills on the amount of hot water consumed by the children they were paid to care for.

 

Conditioning with Regina’s product, though, is like three steps from heaven. Because it smells expensive, like honey and real coconuts, and she can already tell her hair is going to be smooth and shiny and baby-soft to the touch.

 

Then it crosses her mind that if this is Regina’s conditioner, then that’s what Regina’s hair would smell and feel like, too, and damn if that doesn’t make her hands shake a little bit because in the back of her mind she has always wondered.

 

And for fuck’s sake, why does every little thing lead back to Regina Mills?

 

Suddenly she’s just _done_ with everything. Emma rinses her hair angrily, stomps out of the shower, towels off her body in movements in stiff, quick movements, and does not take a single moment to contemplate how one of those towels is probably thicker and more comfortable than a standard pillow.

 

Emma yelps when her comb encounters a single snarl in her otherwise flawlessly knot-free locks. She touches the tender spot on her scalp before scowling at her reflection in the mirror, notes how that spot on her ribs is already darkening.

 

Now, for clothes. She has no desire to put on the dirty clothes she had on before, but the thought of knocking on the door and asking Regina to pass over her new ones is equally unappealing.

 

Emma glances back toward the door in contemplation, and a pile on the floor catches her eye. There are her clean clothes, sitting neatly on a small throw pillow on the floor just inside the door.

 

Emma’s first instinct is to laugh, because Regina actually put her clothes on a _throw pillow_. Even though the tile is so spotless it practically shines.

 

Her second thought, however, is that Regina had done it while she was in the shower. And that thought makes her eye twitch, and she tosses on the clean sweater and jeans before opening the door with a questioning, “What the hell, Regina?”

 

Regina looks up from her book in surprise, adjusting her position on the chair to turn and look at Emma.

 

“What?”

 

“Seriously? All that talk about privacy, and then you burst into the room while I’m showering?” Emma’s not even mad, not really. But the words are tumbling out of her mouth anyway, and if she can keep being annoyed, she’ll stop thinking about the fact that it looks like Regina is reading _Pride and Prejudice,_ which is just way too cute.

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “I did not _burst_ into the room. I waited until I was sure you were in the shower, and I only opened the door wide enough so that I could slip them inside.” She pauses, smirking a little before she adds, “Nice singing, by the way.”

 

Emma feels a flush work its way up her chest all the way to her hairline.

 

“Whatever. Just knock or something next time, geez.”

 

“I will.”

 

Emma just grunts a couple of nonsense syllables under her breath before she grabs her dirty clothes from the bathroom floor and goes to leave. She is at the door, hand on the knob, when Regina’s voice stops her.

 

“Emma.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m sorry. I really was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”

 

Emma sighs, turning back to the brunette, who is now standing next to the bed. “I know. I don’t even know why I yelled at you. It’s just...been a long day, I guess.”

 

“We are certainly in agreement there.”

 

“Hopefully this curse is a one-day thing. Like a virus. Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow morning and it’ll be gone. That’s possible, right?”

 

“I suppose.” Regina looks doubtful, but Emma shrugs.

 

“Anyway. ‘Night.”

 

“Good night.”

 

Emma does leave then, closing the door behind her. She moves as quickly as she can into the next room, because while the bed lies along the wall adjoining Regina’s room, the doorway is far enough away that her wrist is throbbing like crazy for a few seconds. She grits her teeth and forges through, though, and thankfully she can _just_ make it inside the room before the pain becomes unbearable.

 

Once she is on the bed, the pain has mostly abated, but there is still just enough of a twinge to be uncomfortable.

 

Emma takes deep breaths and shifts closer to the edge of the bed, willing the slight pain in her wrist to subside.

 

It doesn’t. Not enough. But it’ll have to do.

 

Emma decides to ignore her wrist and play on her phone for a while, and she continues until the clock and her inability to stop yawning both tell her it’s time for sleep. She puts her phone off to the side and settles into the pillow. If only she could get comfortable, but her stupid wrist won’t stop bugging her.

 

Emma lies absolutely still and tries to count sheep. She turns over and fluffs her pillow, shifts back around and stares at the ceiling, looks out the window where she can see a tree and a bit of stars beyond the panes, and when she finally glances at the clock, it flashes an ungodly time back at her. She’s been lying here for over an hour.

 

It’s not even that her wrist _hurts_ , not exactly. They’re not far enough apart for that. But the dull throb is just enough that she can’t get comfortable enough to relax.

 

Emma rejects the idea of getting up and crawling into bed with Regina. She can just imagine the other woman’s reaction to _that_. Yeah, she wants to get out of this curse, but she’d prefer not to be turned into a toad first.

 

She shucks off her pants - which she never wears to sleep, had only grabbed some because she did not want to parade around in front of Regina in her underwear - and that’s a little better. She shifts around on the bed some more, flinging her arm up on top of her head, settling into a position that is almost comfortable.

 

She doesn’t move, forces herself to envision ocean waves and breathe deeply, and eventually, she finally slips into sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Day Two**

 

Emma wakes up to find her right arm stretched out so far that she is actually touching the wall separating her from Regina.

 

She pulls it back immediately despite the discomfort, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure no one saw. Which is completely ridiculous, because not only is she alone, but the action is merely a result of the curse. Nothing more.

 

She wonders what time Regina gets up in the morning. Her question is answered as she feels a sharp twinge in her wrist and hears an accompanying shuffle from the other side of the wall. The sensation is probably what woke her, courtesy of Regina rising and getting ready for the day.

 

The clock tells her it’s just barely after six, and Emma groans. Two days in a row. _Honestly_.

 

She did not get nearly enough sleep last night to deal with being up this early. Soon, there’s a quiet knock on the door, and Emma grumbles, “Come in.”

 

Regina enters the room in a business-like manner, extending a mug in Emma’s direction.

 

“I know you’re not used to being up this early, so I brought coffee.”

 

“How did you…?”

 

Emma glances over Regina’s shoulder toward the steps, which Regina would have had to use to go all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. Way beyond ten feet, basically.

 

“I have this really handy thing called magic, dear. You do, too, if you would ever learn to use it.”

 

Emma blows gently on the coffee and takes a sip before her eyes widen in amazement. Regina quirks a brow at her expression.

 

“This is good. Like, _really_ good. Wait, did you say you magicked up coffee? Like, just made it appear? Can you teach me to do that?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “No, it’s not magical coffee. My coffee pot is automatic; it brews at this time every morning. I simply used magic to transport it upstairs.”

 

“Oh. It’s still really good, though.”

 

Regina’s reply is long and rambly and contains the words “quality” and “organic” and “fair trade,” but Emma just sees dollar signs and decides if she has to stay in this house for however long - unfortunately, it seems it is going to be more than just a day - then she is totally going to take advantage of the coffee with every chance she gets.

 

Emma climbs out of the bed and trails after Regina, following her to the kitchen.

 

“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

 

“I dunno. Cereal. Toast. Pop-Tarts. Whatever.” Sometimes Mary Margaret makes eggs, but Emma doesn’t really want to mention that because it makes it sound like she is a ten-year-old who has to have her mother cook for her. Emma _can_ actually cook her own eggs, of course. She just doesn’t usually care enough about breakfast to expend that much energy.

 

“Well, I don’t keep Pop-Tarts in the house, but we have quite the cereal selection, thanks to Henry’s unfailing love of it.”

 

Emma stifles a yawn before she grins. “The kid does have good taste,” she says, taking another sip of coffee. She’s starting to feel almost human, and _hell yes,_ she spots some Cocoa Puffs on the top shelf. It’s going to be a good day. She’s surprised Regina lets Henry eat something so non-nutritious for breakfast, but hey, there’s no way she’s going to say anything.

 

“You have a cereal obsession, too?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes as she pours herself some quinoa-granola concoction, and Emma happily dips a spoon into her Cocoa Puffs. “I should’ve known that’s where he got it. Personally, I don’t understand all the hoopla about a simple breakfast food.”

 

“See, but that’s the thing. It’s not just for breakfast. It’s just as perfect for dinner or a midnight snack.”

 

“If one happens to be residing in a dormitory at the time.”

 

“Or just alone in a one-bedroom apartment,” Emma returns, and wow, she didn’t mean for this to turn into a heavy discussion. Regina gets that little crinkle between her eyes, and Emma isn’t awake enough for this. She’s quick to add, “It’s pretty great when there’s no one else there to criticize you for your 2 AM Lucky Charms.”

 

Regina gives her a half-smile, but Emma knows she isn’t convinced. Regina knows a thing or two about being alone, and Emma isn’t going to be able to blow over it with her one-liners.

 

But being alone doesn’t really seem to be in their cards in the near future anyway, so that’s neither here nor there. Speaking of which…

 

“Hey, why are we up so early, anyway?”

 

“This is the time I always get up.”

 

“On Sunday? Seriously?”

 

Regina hesitates. “Sometimes I do sleep in a bit on weekends, but I did not sleep well last night. I’ve been awake since before five, and I couldn’t stand lying there any longer.”

 

“Oh. Sorry. I had the same problem in reverse, wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to sleep in the first place. Took half of forever.”

 

“Your wrist?”

 

“Yeah.” Almost on cue, Emma yawns.

 

“Hmm.” Regina appears to be thinking something over, then she straightens her shoulders and says determinedly, “Well, hopefully it won’t be an issue tonight. We have all day to dedicate to fixing this. Let’s be grateful you only work alternating Sundays. We won’t have to deal with work schedules until tomorrow.”

 

“Right. Yeah. That’s gonna suck.”

 

“It will if we don’t get this solved today. Which is all the more reason we should get moving.”

 

“What about Henry?”

 

“He will probably want to help. I thought we could run to the vault while he’s still sleeping and pick up a couple more books. I have a different approach I’d like to try today.”

 

Emma nods, striding over to rinse out her bowl and place it in the dishwasher.

 

“Let’s go, then.”

 

They’re out the door only a few minutes later, and Emma’s about to climb into the car when she pauses at Regina’s voice.

 

“Wait.”

 

Emma watches as Regina raises her arms and waves them in a slow arc. The entire mansion is coated in a faint purple glow that disappears within a few seconds.

 

“Protection spell.”

 

“I figured.”

 

Unfortunately, their Sunday does not wind up being any more productive than the day before. Regina comes across a couple potential fixes, but neither yields even the slightest effect. Emma finds a possible solution, but it involves a particular crystal Regina tells her has been missing for a hundred years. Henry is excited to be a part of the search at first, but even he gets bored after a couple hours and leaves them to go read comic books in his room.

 

Mary Margaret keeps calling Emma, offering to help and wanting updates, even though there’s nothing she can do and Emma swears she’ll let her know the second they’ve made any progress. Regina threatens to explode her phone with magic if she hears “With a Smile and a Song” (Henry thought it would be hilarious to customize her ringtones, and Emma secretly loves them) one more time, so Emma compromises and agrees they’ll all have dinner at the Charming apartment that night if Mary Margaret will stop calling. They need to go over to get her stuff, anyway.

 

There’s still a while before they need to leave, but Emma has reached the end of the only books she can read for the _second fucking time_ , and she’s a thousand percent done.

 

She shuts the book and taps the eraser end of a pencil against the cover a few times before she says, “I can’t believe you’re reading _Pride and Prejudice_.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“ _Pride and Prejudice_. The book. I saw you reading it last night.”

 

Regina stares at her. “You’re mentioning this because…?”

 

“I’m sick of this. We’re not finding anything, and I need a break. Since I can’t go anywhere, I thought we could talk.”

 

Regina smooths a finger across her brow and sits back in her chair, sighing in a way that Emma can’t quite tell is annoyed or just the product of finally moving after sitting in one place for too long. Maybe both.

 

Either way, she’s standing up, and Emma eagerly jumps up alongside her.

 

“I suppose we could go outside for a bit. Get some fresh air.”

 

“Um, yeah. Definitely. Great idea.”

 

Emma follows Regina out the back door to the bench under Regina’s apple tree, heavy with luscious, ripe apples ready to be picked. The brisk October breeze is exactly what she needs. Emma breathes it in, loving the crisp autumn scent, as she throws on the light flannel jacket she thought to grab on the way out.

 

“Did you really want an answer to your earlier question, or were you just saying the first thing that came into your mind?” Regina asks as she selects an apple from the tree and plucks it off.

 

“It just popped into my head. But yeah, I’d like to know.”

 

“Oh. Well, it isn’t that exciting. I’ve read the book before. I enjoyed it, so I wanted to read it again.”

 

“It just doesn’t seem like you.” Emma answers as she chooses her own apple, gives it a quick wipe on her sleeve, and bites in.

 

“And why is that?”

 

Emma is reveling in the delicious flavor of the apple, so it takes her a second to swallow before answering.

 

“I don’t know. It just seems...sappy. I would’ve thought you’d be reading, like, _The Art of War_ or something,” she teases, just to see Regina’s expression.

 

She does not disappoint, rolling her eyes and snorting. “Well, not today, anyway. I wouldn’t want to be predictable. Besides,” she continues, “Jane Austen is a talented writer. I quite enjoy her wit. Have you read it?”

 

“Nah,” she shrugs, “I can’t really get into classics. I mean, I like some books, but most of the old ones just put me to sleep.”

 

Regina nods. “I can understand that. Whoever thought Dickens was a master wordsmith is beyond my imagining.” Her tone turns scathing. “And don’t _even_ get me started on James Joyce. That man was more fond of his own words than anyone has a right to be.”

 

Emma isn’t even sure who the second one is, honestly, but she finds it hilarious that just talking about him gets Regina all riled like this.

 

“Have you seen the movie? Any of them?” Regina is peering at her like Emma should know what she’s asking, and Emma just raises her eyebrows.

 

“Yes, Regina, I’ve seen some movies. Quite a few of them, actually, so you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

 

“I meant of Pride and Prejudice.”

 

“Oh, gotcha. No, I never really wanted to. I mean, girls in corsets swooning over some guy with hideous sideburns and a really uncomfortable-looking shirt? Pass. Give me a good mystery or something with lots of explosions any day of the week.”

 

“Well, first of all, though I do agree with you about the sideburns, that’s not at all how the story goes. It actually has fantastic witty banter and several enjoyable characters.” She suddenly frowns. “Though there are a couple who make me want to reach through the pages and strangle them.”

 

Emma laughs. “Well, you’ve at least made me curious. I promise if it’s on Netflix, I’ll try the first five minutes.”

 

Regina gives a satisfied nod and returns to her apple, and Emma chews contentedly on her own, enjoying the lovely afternoon. It occurs to her that the past several minutes have been uncommonly friendly between them, thinks that maybe they should take stress-breaks more often. It’s certainly better than the way Regina was snapping at her just an hour ago. Which, to be fair, she had certainly reciprocated.

 

But now, together, it’s almost...peaceful. It’s a strange sensation, one Emma’s not quite sure what to do with. And it makes her want to stay and revel in it just as much as it makes her squirm and itch to move.

 

Regina settles the debate as she polishes off the last of her apple and stands. “Ready?”

 

“Yep.”

 

This time, Emma leads the way back to the study, and she’s surprised when it’s Regina and not her who emits the first groan when they open the books again.

 

“Let me tell you, whoever wrote this book? No Jane Austen,” Regina grumbles, flipping to the next page.

 

“The James Joyce of witchy books?”

 

Regina groans more loudly, but her mouth is turned up as her eyes trail down the page, and Emma feels like she’s done something right.

 

-

 

Dinner with the Charmings goes just about as expected. Her parents ask a million questions. Regina only growls at Mary Margaret once, and Henry whines about the fact that Regina makes him eat all the artichokes on his plate. He looks pleadingly at Emma, who doesn’t even hesitate before backing up Regina. He’s tried that a few times before, but while Emma might be the easier-going parent between the two of them, she’s by no means a pushover. And she is not suicidal enough to think undermining Regina’s authority is a good life choice.

 

Overall, though, it isn’t terrible. Emma actually kind of enjoys herself, especially when Henry cracks a joke that makes Regina laugh. A throw-your-head-back, husky, full-volume laugh, and Emma’s stomach kind of turns over, because _goddamn_ , Regina is so beautiful when she’s happy.

 

Regina seems to slip back into her shell after that, though, mindful of the company. While she’s developed a (mostly) civil relationship with the Charmings, she isn’t exactly at the stage of dropping over for brownies and gossip.

 

By the time they make it home, it’s too late for another movie, and Henry tells them goodnight and heads straight for his room.

 

“Lights out at 11. It’s a school night,” Emma reminds him out of habit, then pauses to look at Regina. They had decided weeks ago that it was in Henry’s best interest for bedtimes to be consistent across both households. But this still isn’t her house, and she doesn’t want to overstep boundaries.

 

But Regina is just looking at her, impressed and not at all bothered.

 

“What?” Emma questions, ignoring Henry’s grumbled agreement as he continues to his room.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Emma narrows her eyes at that, annoyed and wanting to question further, but she doesn’t. Emma can be pretty damn tenacious when she wants to be - she likes to think of it as one of her finer qualities - but she doesn’t want to underestimate the stubborn streak in a woman who cursed an entire realm because she was harboring a decade-old grudge on a child. She could honestly see them having a petty _“What?” / “I said, ‘nothing,’”_ conversation for the next hour or so, and the thought isn’t nearly as appealing as a glass of Regina’s apple cider, which is what she could really go for right now.

 

Emma thinks a couple glasses might also help her get up the courage to ask Regina a particular favor, because sober, the thought is mildly terrifying, regardless of pleasant afternoon bookish discussions.

 

“Cider tonight?” Emma asks, and Regina nods over at her.

 

“You read my mind.”

 

Later, glasses in hand, they’re lounging in front of the television with the fireplace crackling alongside them. Emma found a channel playing a Halloweenish movie every night for the month of October, and tonight’s selection is Practical Magic. She’s always had a bit of a crush on Sandra Bullock, and she’s happy when Regina agrees to the viewing selection.

 

After the movie ends, Regina flips off the television, and they’re left lounging in the glow of the firelight, serenaded only by the lulling _hiss_ and _pop_ of the flames.

 

Emma glances over at Regina on the other end of the couch, bare feet tucked up underneath her, curled into a small throw blanket. She looks so peaceful, so human, and it’s a sight that makes her heart kick in her chest but also gives her a small boost of courage. She drains the last of her second glass of cider and takes a deep breath.

 

“So, I was thinking.”

 

“Imagine that,” Regina drawls, sarcasm dripping from her tone. And while the silent contemplative look is gone, there’s no particular hostility either.

 

Not yet, anyway.

 

“Ha. Ha. You’re so hilarious, Regina. _Anyway_. Back to my idea. It has to do with sleeping.”

 

Regina frowns but waits for her to continue.

 

“I didn’t sleep well last night. And neither did you. And I don’t know about you, but I really need a good night’s sleep before work tomorrow, or I’m going to wind up biting everyone’s heads off. Or falling asleep at my desk. And I know you hate it when your sheriff slacks off on the job.”

 

Regina raises her eyebrows. “ _My_ sheriff?”

 

Emma flushes, jumping quickly to the defensive. “You know what I mean.”

 

“What did you want, Emma?” she asks, growing slightly impatient even though _she_ is the one who interrupted Emma. But Emma knows better than to point that out.

 

“Well, I was thinking that if we moved that big chair you have in your room, there would be room for the guest bed in there. It’s smaller than yours, so it should fit. And I know it’s totally an invasion of privacy or whatever, but I’ve already seen your room anyway. I’ve been in there. It’s great and all, but it’s just a bedroom. I’ve been in plenty of those. I mean, not _plenty_ plenty, not as many as that sounds like; I don’t sleep around. Not to say I’m a prude- _or_ that there’s a limit to how many people you should have sex with-”

 

Dear God, why is she still talking?

 

“-But um. Wow, that went a little off-topic.”

 

“You don’t say,” Regina says, and she looks amused and...something else that makes Emma kind of nervous.

 

“I swear I’m not, like, propositioning you or whatever.” Emma says, hoping her face is still red from before so it doesn’t change now. “I just thought we could move the bed. So we could both sleep better. It would be beneficial for all parties involved, I think,” Emma concludes with the statement she has been practicing in her head for the past several minutes.

 

“What do you think?” she prompts after a second.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

Emma’s mood sinks at the thought of another night spent tossing and turning or squishing herself up against a wall just so she can fall asleep. And she’s getting a little angry, because Regina didn’t even _consider_ it.

 

“Dammit, Regina, I’m not asking-”

 

Regina holds up a hand, effectively silencing Emma for the moment.

 

“I am not dragging an entire second bed into the room; there would be absolutely no space to move around.” Here, Regina sighs. “However, I have also been contemplating the problem. And I believe the best solution is for you to share my bed. In an entirely platonic sense, obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Emma parrots, because her brain kind of turned off at the “share my bed” comment, and she’s not entirely sure she’s still awake. She is trying to come up with a way to pinch herself without Regina noticing - Emma is closer to the fire and therefore has no blanket to hide under - but no. She really is awake. Otherwise that whole “platonic” part totally would not have made an appearance.

 

“I guess we should get to it, then?” Emma asks after a quick glance at the clock. She seriously does need to get some rest tonight, though she’s not sure how sleeping right next to Regina is actually going to accomplish that. She’ll probably be awake and buzzing with energy for half the night.

 

“It is rather late,” Regina agrees, and she groans a little as she climbs to her feet and stretches.

 

Regina starts the trek up to the bedroom, and Emma follows, swearing her heart starts thumping louder with every step.

 

They make a quick stop for Emma to grab some clothes from the guest room - dammit, she’s going to have to wear pants, but it’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make - before reaching their destination. Once again she is struck by how great it smells in the room, though she still can’t place the scent.

 

“You can change in here. I’ll turn around,” Regina volunteers, turning her back to Emma without waiting for a response and opening the drawer in front of her to pull out her pajamas.

 

“Oh, okay. Sure.” Emma spins around, whips off her clothes and hears Regina doing the same. Fuck, _fuck_. Images flash through her head in rapid succession.

 

Regina in her underwear, Regina _naked_ , Regina in that black nightie from the night before, Regina-

 

“I’m done,” the brunette says.

 

-in pajamas almost identical to Emma’s, long sleeves and loose pants, except Regina’s are violet silk instead of blue flannel.

 

Yet somehow the image isn’t a disappointment. Emma likes how soft and relaxed she looks in these. Well, except for the clear tension in her shoulders, belying the fact that she is probably not looking forward to sharing her private sleeping space.

 

“Did I mention yesterday how amazing it smells in here?” Emma asks, more just to have something to say, but a little curious. Emma looks around but doesn’t see any candles, and she refuses to believe the room just smells this good for no reason. “Did you enchant it or something?”

 

“No.” Regina gestures to a round white object on her dresser. “It’s an oil diffuser.”

 

“Oh. What scent is that? I don’t recognize it.”

 

They climb into opposite sides of the bed and slide under the covers. The sheets are even better than the ones in the guest room, and Emma almost sighs.

 

“It’s a combination of oils. Lavender, sandalwood, and vanilla. Due to...well, many things things in my past, I sometimes have difficulty sleeping. The scent helps me to relax.”

 

Regina suddenly frowns and turns onto her side away from Emma, like she regrets saying anything that could possibly infer she’s the slightest bit weaker than she likes to pretend.

 

Emma feels the sudden need to level the playing field. Not something deeply personal but something she doesn’t like anyone to know.

 

“I hate spiders.”

 

That gets Regina to turn back to her.

 

“What?”

 

“I hate spiders. A lot. One time when I was eight or nine, I was with this foster family I only stayed with for like a month before they sent me back. One day I did something that made them mad - I don’t even remember what it was - but the woman locked me in a dark closet for an entire hour for punishment. When the hour was up and she opened the door, I saw the biggest fucking wolf spider you’ve seen in your life, just sitting there right next to me.”

 

Regina’s mouth curls into a horrified grimace.

 

“Like, logically, I know it was just chilling there, but as a kid, I thought it had been biding its time, waiting to kill me. And even though I make myself deal with them like any responsible grown-up, I hate them so much I can’t even tell you.”

 

Emma expects Regina’s next words to be an inquiry as to why in the world she is volunteering this seemingly random information.

 

But she doesn’t do anything of the sort. She just stares at Emma with this deep, mysterious look in her eyes and gives a small nod, and Emma knows no explanations are necessary.

 

“Good night, Emma,” Regina says as she reaches over flips off the light.

 

“Good night, Regina.”

 

**Day Three**

 

Emma stirs at some ungodly hour because the sun is just peeking over the horizon, shining directly into the room without any trees to block its path through the glass and straight into Emma’s eyes.

 

She growls deeply in her throat and swivels her head in the opposite direction...only to see her fingers entwined with Regina’s directly in the middle of the bed.

 

Emma inhales and snatches her right hand back as quickly as she comprehends the sight in front of her.

 

Curse or no curse, Emma cannot imagine Regina taking kindly on Emma grabbing at her in her sleep.

 

Thankfully, Regina doesn’t wake, doesn’t even shift, continuing to breathe steadily, and Emma’s heartbeat is slowing, her eyes drooping again…

 

...until eight minutes later when Regina’s alarm goes off.

 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Emma grumbles, flopping over and stuffing a pillow over the top of her head.

 

She gets a couple minutes of reprieve while Regina gets up and gathers her clothes for the day - though not really because the ache in her wrist is building and receding in unpredictable ways from Regina’s movements, making it impossible to relax - and soon enough the pillow is being yanked away, and Regina thwacks her over the head with it.

 

“Time to get up, Emma,” Regina says, and Emma peers through one eye to a face that shows no sign of mercy.

 

“No coffee this morning?” she asks, sniffing the air hopefully as she sits up.

 

“It’s waiting downstairs for us. I thought it would offer you a nice incentive to actually get out of bed.”

 

“Hey, enough,” she protests, but her words are broken up by a huge yawn. “It’s not like I sleep ‘til noon every day. I _do_ have a job to get to. I just don’t see the point of getting up at the crack of dawn like _some_ people.”

 

Regina shrugs. “And I don’t see the point of wasting time. Speaking of which...” Regina inclines her head meaningfully toward Emma, who is still sitting up in bed. She climbs to her feet and has a nice stretch, and she swears she catches Regina’s eyes on the inch of exposed stomach before the other woman moves into the next room, much to the protest of Emma’s wrist.

 

Emma shifts a couple feet closer to the bathroom to ease the pain and looks down self-consciously. Should she be cutting down on the bear claws? Nah, everything seems the same as usual down there. She still bears a couple of stretch marks from her pregnancy with Henry, but she’s long accepted those as just part of her body. She doubts they bother Regina either.

 

Not that Regina spends any time contemplating Emma’s stomach. Certainly not as long as _Emma_ spends thinking about the fact that Regina might be thinking about her stomach. Which is just ridiculous.

 

She can hear Regina start to brush her teeth through the door left slightly ajar, and she hollers, “Mind if I join you?”

 

Regina doesn’t answer, but she pushes the door open, which Emma takes as an invitation.

 

She squeezes some toothpaste onto the toothbrush Regina had gotten out for her the day before. Then they’re standing side-by-side at the sink brushing their teeth and it’s...weird. She avoids Regina’s eyes in the mirror, because it seems curiously intimate to share this little ritual.

 

A couple minutes later, they’re finished, Emma’s dressed, and they’re traipsing quietly down to the kitchen so as not to wake Henry.

 

“He usually sleeps at least another half hour.”

 

“Funny, me, too,” Emma complains, but she isn’t really upset about it. It’s hard to be when she is pouring herself a mug of the best coffee known to mankind.

 

“You’re actually talking in more than monosyllables before your coffee today. Perhaps you’re getting used to rising at a decent hour, after all.”

 

Emma snorts. “Never gonna happen. I just finally feel rested,” she says, realizing how true it is right before she says it. “I slept great last night.”

 

Which is surprising, actually. But though it had taken a little while for her heart to calm down enough to relax, between the lull of Regina’s breathing and the soothing scents, she had dropped off in only a few minutes, waking only once the sun decided to rear its sadistic head.

 

Regina looks down at her coffee. “As did I.” Her face is covered in a slight blush, and she straightens quickly, sharp humor in her eyes at odds with the soft color still lingering in her cheeks. “I have to thank you for being a pleasant bed companion. I half expected you to be a sleep kicker, so this is a welcome surprise.”

 

“You’re lucky you didn’t have to share with me when I was a kid. I was brutal. Finally grew out of it, though.”

 

“Well, I’m certainly grateful for that. I’ve w-” Regina stops abruptly, her coffee cup banging down on the table as she stares at the object like it just grew teeth and tried to bite her.

 

“Regina?” Emma prompts, concern ringing out in the single word.

 

Regina only gives a flat, “I’m fine,” as she turns away from Emma and goes to the fridge, getting out eggs and spinach and bell peppers, avoiding Emma’s eyes the entire time.

 

Emma’s superpower calls bullshit, but she can also identify a closed door when she sees one, and at this point, Regina’s door is shut, barricaded, and surrounded by a moat with spikes and hungry crocodiles.

 

Emma opens the cabinet with the Cocoa Puffs, unsure whether Regina plans to make her an omelet or not. Almost on cue, Regina asks over her shoulder if Emma cares for an omelet as well, but Emma declines, watching Regina make her eggs as she pours her own breakfast. The other woman whisks and slices with the expertise of someone who has done this a hundred times before. She is clearly still stressed about something, but instead of acting out, she’s folded inward. If it were Emma, she would probably be banging the pan against the burner and breaking the eggs, but all of Regina’s movements are carefully controlled.

 

They don’t talk much over breakfast - Emma still isn’t much of a morning person, even when she does feel slightly better than a drunken zombie - but halfway through her second cup of coffee, Emma realizes there’s a topic they still haven’t broached. Regina has calmed down now, even given her crap about eating chocolate cereal two days in a row, and though Emma is dying to know what happened earlier, she’s not going to ask. She will, however, bring up this subject, since it’s pretty important.

 

“So, we should probably figure out the work thing.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Regina says, straightening in her chair. “Obviously, you won’t be able to do patrols today, but I am sure there is plenty of paperwork you can do at my office.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, so this isn’t even going to be a discussion? You just decided without me?”

 

“It seemed like the only logical conclusion”

 

“Well, it isn’t. I get that I’m not the _mayor_ , but I’m still the fucking sheriff, which is pretty damn important.”

 

“I am _well aware_ of that, as you know,” Regina snaps, her eyes flashing. “I only meant-”

 

“Why don’t you have to move, then?” Emma cuts her off. “You have a laptop. You can just bring your stuff down to the station.”

 

“And what of all my meetings and appointments? The town is not going to simply run itself just because we’re in this little predicament.”

 

“Yeah, well criminals aren’t just going to stop _just because we’re in this predicament_ either.”

 

“I’m not suggesting that, but you do have deputies who could stand to take on extra work for a couple days. You always seem to be perpetually behind on you paperwork, anyway.”

 

“Well, maybe if you didn’t have us fill out so much that is total bullshit and unnecessary-”

 

“It’s called the law, dear. I don’t make it.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you did, actually. Not to mention the totally shitty computers. I mean, is this 1998? If I had a work laptop, I _could_ come to your office. I could run down some leads on a case I already have open, maybe even fill out those forms you’re all gung ho about. But I’m not spending the day filling out papers _by hand_ when I could be doing something productive.”

 

“What do _you_ propose, then?”

 

Emma’s about to reiterate her response of Regina coming down to the station with her, but then she realizes that Regina probably does have a point about her meetings. Emma blows out a breath. Shit. She hates this part of arguments, when she starts to cool down and logic seeps back into her brain, followed quickly by the part where she has to apologize.

 

“Perhaps…” Regina starts before Emma can answer. Her voice is still hard, but she pauses and clears her throat before continuing in a slightly gentler, rather professional, tone. “Perhaps we could compromise.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Regina continues. “The majority of my appointments are in the morning, and I can have my assistant reschedule the afternoon ones. We could spend the first half of the day at my office and the second half at the sheriff’s station. Would that be amenable to you?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably the best we can do.” She smirks. “Plus, this way you get to experience a ridealong while I patrol. It’ll be great.”

 

“I’m alive with excitement,” Regina says, rolling her eyes.

 

“You should be,” Emma says, and the joke’s on Regina because patrolling can get crazy boring. Emma’s just happy for the prospective company, even if she is unwillingly tethered to said company for every waking (and sleeping) moment at the time being.

 

“I’m sorry,” Regina says abruptly.

 

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that, either.”

 

“You’re a more than competent sheriff, and I do appreciate that. I didn’t mean to belittle you. I can be...somewhat self-involved at times.”

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Emma says with light sarcasm, and Regina chuckles slightly and turns back to finish her coffee.

 

-

 

After sending Henry off to school and spending the morning in Regina’s office, they take a quick lunch break and spend the first portion of the afternoon at Emma’s desk. Regina sets out her laptop, and Emma runs some searches and starts on paperwork, pointing it out to Regina when she does so just to be obnoxious.

 

Regina frowns as she watches, which is not the reaction Emma would have anticipated. She was going more for an amused laugh and a _finally_ or a devious smirk and a nod...or, well, pretty much anything but the weirdly concerned way Regina stares at her screen.

 

“You weren’t kidding about the computers here,” Regina says, noticing how long it takes Emma to download a simple PDF document.

 

“Um, no. I e-mailed you about them like forever ago.”

 

“I figured you were being hyperbolic. But this is ridiculous,” she says, pointing out the far-outdated version of program she currently has open on her own laptop. “Hm.”

 

Regina spins away, opens a new window, and begins typing furiously without another word to Emma.

 

 _Oh-kaaay_. Emma just turns back to her screen and fills out mind-numbingly boring forms for the next twenty minutes until it’s time to stop. The last two hours of her shift are dedicated to being on patrol today, and she needs to get ready first. She fills her water bottle and decides not to stop at Granny’s today.

 

They make a quick restroom stop before they leave, and when Emma emerges, she finds Regina leaning against the wall right next to the door, talking animatedly but quietly to someone on the phone.

 

“Pink streamers? Do you actually _know_ her? … Yes, I know it’s a party. … Yes, I have planned a few in my time. You may remember I used to throw four balls a year? Not to mention Henry’s birthday parties. I’m especially proud of the dinosaur one.” Her voice turns smug. “... Exactly. … I’m glad you’ll reconsider. I have to go now. … Goodbye.”

 

Regina slides her phone back into her purse and looks at Emma questioningly. “Do we leave now?”

 

“Yep. It’s that time.”

 

Emma leads the way to the cruiser, pain tugging slightly at her wrist when they separate to get in on opposite sides of the car. Once they’re out on the road, Emma yields to her curiosity about Regina’s mysterious call. “Are you so excited to be rid of me you’re actually planning a party?”

 

“As heightened as I am by the thought of being free of your perpetual company, no. That was for your surprise party. Your mother called to ask my opinion on a couple things. Seems she has finally realized she has a tendency to go overboard. Either that or this is just her way of reminding me she wants to be friends.”

 

“Surprise party? For me?” Emma is fixated on that part. She decides she does need a bearclaw and takes a right toward Granny’s.

 

“You are having a birthday in a few days, are you not?”

 

“Yeah, but I-”

 

“Maybe I’ll ask your pirate where to get a good deal on balloons,” Regina fake-muses with a finger tapping against a devilish smirk.

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Why are you so stuck on Hook? What, do you want him for yourself? Is that it? Do you have some weird, hate-to-love-you thing going?”

 

Regina drops her finger and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Please. I am not the one with the fixation. My tastes are a little more refined than that.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Emma mumbles as she pulls into Granny’s.

 

Ruby is waiting at the counter when they walk in, and she raises her eyebrows at Emma’s companion. Emma makes no comment, so Ruby just shrugs.

 

“Afternoon, Sheriff. Madame Mayor,” she adds, inclining her head. “A bearclaw, I’m guessing, Emma?”

 

Emma nods.

 

“Anything for you?” Ruby asks, looking at Regina, and Emma almost falls over when Regina says, “I’ll have the same.”

 

Ruby, however, doesn’t look nearly as surprised as Emma feels, and she rings them up without further comment other than a polite farewell before they exit.  
  


“A bearclaw? Seriously?” Emma says when they’re back in the car again.

 

“What? I enjoy sugar in moderation. It’s not like I was going to eat one of their apple turnovers,” she says, grimacing. “They’re practically a disgrace to the name.”

 

Emma smothers a grin. She’s had Granny’s apple turnovers before, and they’re fine. But Regina’s? Regina’s are _magical_. Well, when they’re not _actually_ magical, that is. She made them once a couple weeks ago, and the flavors were like heaven in Emma’s mouth.

 

“Besides, I’ve never had one of these,” Regina continues. “You’ve made me curious.”

 

“Well, prepare to be amazed.”

 

“I don’t think my expectations are that high.”

 

“They should be,” Emma says, words emerging muffled around a mouthful of doughnut.

 

Regina rolls her eyes and takes a small bite. She chews and swallows, takes another.

 

“So?”

 

“It’s not bad,” Regina concedes.

 

She then proceeds to polish off the entire thing, and Emma even catches her licking her fingers.

 

**Day Four**

 

“What is it you want me to do?” Emma asks.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow at her, somehow still managing to look both cooly attractive and superior while naked and pinned underneath Emma. She appears faintly amused, a devilish smirk curling her lips, and somehow Emma knows that Regina knows _exactly_ why she is asking. Knows her weird fixation with hearing one word from her lips.

 

Regina leans up slowly, runs her tongue along the shell of Emma’s ear until she shudders.

 

“ _Fuck_ me, Miss Swan,” comes the dark whisper, and _holy shit_ -

 

Emma’s eyes fly open. She blinks, taking her surroundings. Regina’s room. Shit. _Shit_. Of all the times to have an, um, _intense_ dream.

 

Emma realizes she is still panting slightly, and she tries to even out her breathing. She shifts around, attempting to ease the ache between her legs while simultaneously staying quiet and not moving too much. The clock tells her it is a little after 3 AM, and thankfully Regina seems to be thoroughly asleep. Regina, who surprisingly seems to be a bit of a snorer.

 

It’s a faint and delicate kind of snore, and something is really wrong with Emma that she finds that ten kinds of adorable.

 

Emma flips onto her other side so she’s staring out the window instead of at Regina. She briefly considers putting her fingers to good use and getting off quickly and silently. But, well, doing that while sharing a bed is just too weird even for her, and she’s just going to have to breathe through it.

 

It takes a few minutes for everything to fade, but eventually the sensations subside, her heart rate slows, and she falls back asleep.

 

When Emma wakes again, it’s because Regina’s alarm has drawn her out of a weird dream about bobbing for apples in a vat of hot cocoa and cinnamon. She opens her eyes an instant before Regina does, and she watches the brunette blink herself awake a couple of times...and then those brown eyes move down to where their hands have twined themselves together once again.

 

Shit.

 

But Regina just pulls away when she rolls over to silence the alarm, and that’s that. She doesn’t say anything about it. Well, good. They were sleeping anyway. Everyone knows what you do in your sleep doesn’t count. It’s not weird. There’s no reason to feel awkward about it.

 

So Emma wants to do it every moment when they’re awake, too. So she wants to memorize every knuckle, every small scar, every vein and callous.

 

Um, okay. So it might be a little weird.

 

She’s gone from the point of finding Regina distractingly attractive to the point where she now has fluttery feelings about Regina’s _hands_ , for crying out loud.

 

They really need to get out of this situation soon. This proximity is leading to all kinds of things she’s not ready to feel.

 

Or not ready to admit that she feels, at least.

 

On the upside, today is the third day after Gold began the potion, so they should have a huge lead at some point in the very near future.

 

The thought is heartening, and Emma smiles. All she has to do is wait. She can do that.

 

So she does. She waits all day. Sometimes she glances at the clock. Sometimes she contemplates calling Gold. Sometimes she wonders how helpful this information will actually be once they have it.

 

And sometimes she looks at Regina and forgets she’s waiting for anything at all.

 

Just as they’re finishing up dinner and Henry’s complaining about the fact that he has to build _another_ birdhouse at school, Regina’s cell phone rings.

 

“It’s Gold,” she says, looking at the caller ID, and Henry and Emma turn to each other with an excited glance and high-five.

 

Regina shushes both of them, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

 

Emma leans closer, trying to make out Gold’s words. She barely has a chance before Regina says, “We’ll be right over.”

 

Regina ends the call and stands without comment.

 

“So?” Emma prompts.

 

“The potion is ready.”

 

“Alright! Let’s do this thing,” Emma says, standing.

 

They agree to let Henry come along, and once everyone has their coats, they drive over to Gold’s shop.

 

He and Belle are both waiting for them inside, and they all walk into the back together. The potion is brewing in a small earthenware pot, and Gold gestures toward it.

 

“If you could both dip your affected hand into the potion?”

 

Emma sends a quick questioning glance to Regina, who nods. Simultaneously, they dip their hands in, hold for a few seconds, and pull them back out at Rumple’s command.

 

They watch as the potion begins swirling around on its own, suddenly turning from crystal clear into a swirling rainbow of colors.

 

“Now we only have to wait.”

 

“That’s it? Now we just...let it do its thing?”

 

“It should settle on a color by morning, and that will tell us the origin of the magic,” Gold says.

 

“And we’ll be one step closer to solving this.” Emma adds, and Regina’s nod confirms it.

 

They leave soon after the potion begins its process, because regardless of how much Emma might enjoy Belle’s company, she still has no desire to spend her free time with Gold.

 

Henry talks them into playing games for the rest of the evening. Annoyed after she has her ass handed to her in Aggravation (Regina has no qualms about knocking her marbles back to the start), Emma decides to teach them how to play ERS with a deck of cards, which she is sure she can dominate at.

 

And she does. At least, until Regina and Henry catch on and start slapping the deck with surprising speed.

 

Emma still wins both rounds, though, and she doesn’t even gloat. Too much.

 

Henry starts yawning and rubbing at his eyes, so Regina sends him to bed early, despite his protests. It’s late, only half an hour before his normal bedtime, but Emma sees a flash of the teenager he’s going to become in the stubborn set of his jaw as he stomps up the stairs to his room.

 

They go to check on him after giving him a few minutes to cool down and get ready for bed. Regina needs to make sure he’s obeying, see if they need to have a discussion about his attitude.

 

But her mouth curls into a soft smile when she enters the room, and Emma follows her eyes and feels a matching expression form on her own face. He’s already sound asleep, lying across the bed in pajamas with the light still on, snoring up a storm. Emma doesn’t even register that her hand is moving until it lands on Regina’s shoulder, resting there like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A moment later Emma panics after she realizes what she’s done, something intimate, a gesture of _parents_ rather than _co-parents_ , and those two letters make all the difference in the world. But while Regina turns her head slightly toward her right shoulder where Emma’s hand rests, her fingers pale against the plum blouse, she doesn’t tense or shrug the hand away. They merely stand there and watch their son for a while longer, thankful that he is safe and breathing and looking adorably young in his slumber, even if he’s growing up much too fast.

 

Eventually, Regina reaches over to shut off the light, and Emma lets her hand slide from her shoulder. She closes the door behind them, and the walk down the hall to Regina’s room is conducted in silence.

 

Emma wants to make a comment about snoring apparently being a nurture-over-nature thing, but something about Regina’s quiet manner makes her feel like the joke would be ill-timed. And normally that might not stop her, but, well, it does tonight. She’ll just file the information away for a future time.

 

“I think I’ll read a bit before bed,” Regina says as they enter the bedroom.

 

Emma shrugs. “That’s fine. I’ve got my phone.”

 

She isn’t even sure Regina hears her, or even registers her presence at all, as she makes a distracted noise and begins to unbutton her shirt without first checking to see if Emma’s turned around.

 

She hasn’t. And she only stares for one or two seconds before she forces her feet to move.

 

Emma doesn’t know what Regina’s deal is right now. She seems to have slipped into some foreign mood within the last couple minutes for no discernable reason. She isn’t annoyed or angry, so Emma doesn’t think she is the cause.

 

Still, it distracts her, and Emma fails massively at her level of Candy Crush while trying to think of what to say as they sit side-by-side on Regina’s bed.

 

When Regina’s voice does come, it’s so soft Emma almost misses it.

 

“My mother.”

 

Emma pauses her game and sets her phone down. “What?”

 

Regina clears her throat, and her words emerge a little louder this time, a little more sure, but she still faces forward rather than meeting Emma’s eyes. “On the first day, the day this happened,” she pauses, gesturing back and forth between them. “You asked if anyone had used magical torture on me. The answer is yes. My mother did. As did Rumple, on occasion. But my mother- she had her own ideas of how I should behave, who I should be. And when I fell short of that…”

 

Regina’s voice trails off, but the conclusion to the sentence is obvious. Emma bites her lip. She wants to find the perfect words to respond. She wants to say how sorrowful she is for that young girl, how she understands growing up in homes that aren’t deserving of the word. She wants to place her forehead against Regina’s and wrap her in her arms and tell her she’s safe now, to acknowledge the bravery it takes to open herself up like that. She want to ask why Regina is telling her these things.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

Instead, she reaches out slowly and takes one of Regina’s hands from where they’re twisting around in her lap. She links their fingers together loosely, squeezes just the tiniest amount, trying to convey everything she’s feeling in that one gesture.

 

Regina lets out a shuddery breath and Emma lets her hand go, not wanting to make the other woman uncomfortable.

 

“Is that-” Emma starts, but she breaks off. Honestly, of all the words tumbling around in her brain right now, these are the ones that choose to fall out of her mouth. Emma could just smack her own head sometimes.

 

Regina just looks over at her, waiting for the question, but it just feels insensitive now.

 

“Never mind.”

 

“You can ask, whatever it is. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

 

“Is that what you were going to say yesterday morning?”

 

Regina turns back to stare at the wall, and for a second Emma thinks she might refuse to answer. But then she starts speaking again. “It’s related, yes. I was just going to comment that if you had kicked me in your sleep, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d awoken with bruises.”

 

Emma frowns. “I thought you said magical torture never left marks.”

 

Regina’s jaw tightens. “No. But husbands do.”

 

Emma feels her gut clench, and her fists follow suit. It’s not a surprise, not entirely. She had certainly known that Regina’s marriage to Leopold had not been a happy one. But this? She wants to travel across realms and time and take a young Regina somewhere safe, somewhere she could be herself and never be forced to marry anyone so awful.

 

But even as she thinks this, Emma is overwhelmed by how amazing _this_ Regina is. This Regina who has been through so much and survived it all, who is sitting here opening up to Emma because somehow this curse has led to them growing close enough to do so.

 

“Hey,” Emma says quietly, and Regina turns to meet her gaze, eyes wary, clearly not wanting any pity for what she just revealed.

 

“Thank you. For telling me.”

 

The words seem wholly insufficient, but Emma isn’t sure what else to say. She hopes her eyes say it all, in that way they have of sometimes being able to communicate without words. She stares deeply into the brown eyes until Regina blinks and looks down at her hands.

 

“I don’t even know why I did.”

 

Emma smiles, just a bit. “I hate to break it to you, Regina, but I think we might be friends now.”

 

Regina tries to scoff, but there isn’t much effort behind it. She settles on a half-laugh, setting her book aside and turning out the light.

 

“Who saw that coming?” she says, and a smile forms on Emma’s lips as she slides down beside Regina to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day Five**

 

The potion is a pale, minty green by the time they arrive at Gold’s shop the next morning after dropping Henry off at school. Belle tells them that according to her research, that particular color indicates the Zutibor realm as the magic’s place of origin.

 

Unfortunately, it seems to be a realm about which both Gold and Regina are entirely clueless.

 

“I couldn’t find much information about it,” Belle continues in her soft accent. “Really the only fact that I gathered was that just as the Enchanted Forest inspired countless fairy tales, the Zutibor realm has been linked in many ways to Slavic mythology.”

 

“Slavic mythology?” Emma echoes. “You don’t by any chance happen to know any experts on that, do you?” Sarcasm invades her tone, because _seriously_? Who knows anything about Slavic mythology? Greek or Egyptian, sure. But Slavic? Emma’s guessing not so much.

 

Belle makes an apologetic face. “I’m afraid not. And I did not find any books in our library on the subject, although I did find two that have sections on it.”

 

Belle pulls the books off a nearby shelf and holds them out. Regina nods determinedly as she accepts the proffered books.

 

“Well, at least we have a place to start now,” she says, and Emma walks alongside her on the way back to the car.

 

“We should go back to the house,” Emma says as they climb inside the Mercedes.

 

Regina pauses, clearly intending to go to the vault, as Emma had suspected.

 

“Why?”

 

“For one, no offense to your inner sanctum or whatever, but it’s kind of creepy. But mainly, we barely have any books, and they probably won’t be enough to help. I was going to Google it to see what I could find, and I get really sucky cell service in the vault.”

 

Regina nods. “Good point.”

 

They wind up swinging by the vault to see if Regina has any books that might be helpful, but they’re back in front of the Mills mansion in a matter of minutes.

 

Emma is right. It doesn’t take too long before they reach the conclusion that the books are all but useless. They are not nearly detailed enough, and though the tales are interesting, there is nothing that is going to help them with their predicament.

 

The laptops emerge soon thereafter, and thanks to Emma’s exceptional persuasive skills - and maybe a little whining - they’re working from the living room couch. Which is a thousand times better than the stupid study.

 

Emma hits a couple of dead ends and a couple of websites that look like they haven’t been updated since 1996. But eventually, she finds one that seems like it might actually have some information.

 

Magical creatures...leshy... _leshy_.

 

“Oh my God. I think I have something!” Emma exclaims, and she almost drops her laptop when she turns the screen toward Regina.

 

The brunette leans over so close that Emma would normally be getting all tingly over the scent of her hair. And really, she still is, but it’s a testament to how excited she is that even that fails to distract her from the find.

 

“Look!” She points at the article so Regina can see for herself while she gives a quick overview of what she just read. “Leshies are fairy-like beings who inhabit forests. They’re super powerful and mischievous and like to play tricks, _and_ they can turn themselves into any kind of plant they want. Like that tree! The one that disappeared, remember? That would explain it! I _knew_ I wasn’t crazy!”

 

Regina’s gaze moves from the screen over to Emma just long enough to give her a _Sure about that?_ look, and Emma just wrinkles her nose and says, “Oh, don’t even. You know I’m brilliant. Just look at this find.”

 

She gestures at the computer, and Regina nods. “It certainly is our most promising lead so far. Let’s see what else we can find about them.”

 

Unfortunately, that’s all that particular website has to offer, so it’s back to Google.

 

Several hours later, Henry’s back from school, dinner has been eaten, and all signs point to the curse culprit being a leshy. According to what they’ve found, leshies even commonly make loud, inarticulate noises, which would coincide with what the boys reported the night before the handcuff incident.

 

Everything is looking up, with the exception of one slight problem: They still don’t know how to get the leshy to reverse the curse.

 

Regina tosses all of her magical creature books aside when they offer no more than the most basic information. Henry lifts his nose out of his homework long enough to jokingly offer to loan them his copy of _Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , and Emma snorts.

 

“Unfortunately, I think this is one problem even Harry Potter can’t fix,” Regina says.

 

“Huh.” Emma adds a few seconds later. “This one says you should set the forest on fire. The leshy will be so distracted, it will drop all curses and let you go.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Regina’s head swivels toward her in disbelief.

 

“Relax, Smokey, I wasn’t serious. Sheesh. I mean, it seems like this website might be. But I’d rather not have to arrest myself, thanks.”

 

Emma pops open a new tab to explore the next site on her list. It appears to be better maintained than the last one and even lists references. Now they’re getting somewhere.

 

“Hmm.” Emma breaks the silence a few minutes later. “According to this, it says that leshies have a close bond with gray wolves. Do you think Ruby might be able to help?”

 

“We can certainly ask her. It would be nice to find a way to communicate, and that’s the only possible way we’ve found so far.”

 

Ruby is happy to help when Emma calls and explains the situation, and since she can shift at will in this realm, they decide to meet in the morning when daylight is on their side.

 

“We’re planning to avoid fighting this thing if possible,” Emma says. “but I’d really like to be able to see just in case.”

 

“That makes sense. Guess I’ll see you in the morning, then!”

 

Emma hangs up after they exchange goodbyes, and it hits her all at once that this is actually happening. They’re going to do this. This time tomorrow, she could be sitting in her own bedroom. Alone. In a tiny, cramped apartment with her parents. Away from Regina and Henry.

 

Emma sighs and tries to remember why this is a good thing.

 

Well, at least she’ll be able to pee on her own again. That will be nice.

 

**Day Six**

 

First thing in the morning, they’re driving out to the farmhouse again, this time with a curious Ruby in tow.

 

“I can’t believe you guys have been handcuffed together for almost a week and somehow managed to keep it a secret from everyone.”

 

“We’re not keeping it a secret, precisely,” Regina replies. “We just didn’t want it to be spread around.”

 

“What, that all three of our magic users are _totally_ stumped about something? Yeah, I can see why you wouldn’t want that going around. Doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

 

“We’re not stumped. We have actually made a significant amount of progress. And we are hoping you can aid us in developing that.”

 

“By talking to this leshy guy or whatever, yeah, I know. So I’m basically just supposed to find out if this can be broken? And if he wants anything in return?”

 

“Exactly. And if he turns out to be friendly, maybe why the hell he did this in the first place.” Emma chimes in as they pull up to the farmhouse.

 

“Got it. Anything else?”

 

“Just stay safe. If for some reason you don’t feel safe, just come back. There’s a possibility we’re wrong. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

“No worries, Em. I got this.”

 

Ruby turns, and by the time she hits the tree line, it’s a wolf bounding out of site rather than a woman.

 

“That’s so weird.”

 

Regina laughs.

 

“It does take some getting used to.”

 

An hour later, Emma is starting to get anxious. She can’t really pace without making both of them miserable, so instead they’re both leaning against the side of the cruiser, and Emma’s tapping her foot like she’s trying to audition for the world’s most annoying clogging competition.

 

Ruby wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. Emma peers down at the time on her phone again, which has only advanced a single minute since her last peek.

 

She curses under her breath. What if something has happened to her? Yeah, she’s a huge wolf with some seriously scary teeth, but that doesn’t mean she’s invincible.

 

But Regina hasn’t felt anything magical, even knowing the type of magic they need to be on the lookout for, and neither has she. So it’s probably fine.

 

Still, she can’t shake the ball of nerves that has taken up residence her stomach, and she’s wondering what acid reflux feels like because she’s thinking she may have developed it.

 

Just when Emma is sure she can’t stand being still and waiting much longer, she feels a hand sliding gently against her own.

 

Emma’s foot freezes then drops back to the ground, because she needs both feet to balance right now.

 

Regina is facing straight ahead, but Emma can tell she’s watching out of the corner of her eye, checking to make sure this is okay.

 

Emma has never dealt well with physical touch, particularly when she’s upset. It tends to make everything worse.

 

But this is so light, so hesitant. Just the brush of a few knuckles against hers, so like the way Emma had reached for her hand the other night. Regina doesn’t lean over and hug her or grab her arm or try to confine her in any way.

 

Like she knows that any pressure will make everything worse, make Emma explode on the spot.

 

Regina doesn’t spout reassurances she has no way of knowing, no false promises spilling from her lips for the sake of comfort. Instead she merely lets Emma know she isn’t alone. With the lingering brush of her fingers, Emma feels some of the tension drain away. Obviously a certain amount of worry remains, but she no longer feels like jumping out of her skin.

 

Then Regina moves, runs her knuckles up and down against the back of Emma’s hand. Goosebumps break out all over her skin, and Emma is suddenly glad it’s October and she’s wearing a jacket to cover the evidence.

 

Emma leans over to press her shoulder to Regina’s briefly, silently thanking her for the gesture.

 

Then she hears a howl, and Regina’s hand falls away from hers as they both take an automatic step forward.

 

A few seconds later, Ruby appears at the edge of the woods, running toward them. Emma is relieved to see her friend unharmed, but concern wins out as the dominant emotion, wondering why the other woman is hurrying toward them so quickly. Is something dangerous following her?

 

But no, she’s smiling. She’s smiling, like _huge_ , and Emma’s so ready to go into Savior mode, she’s actually taken aback for a moment.

 

“I found him.”

 

“And?” Regina prompts.

 

“What happened?” Emma adds.

 

Ruby takes a couple deep breaths, panting from the exercise and excitement. “He says he can break it.”

 

Emma’s eyes almost fall out of her head. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. If you follow me, I’ll take you right to him. He doesn’t like to leave the forest.”

 

Regina frowns. “How do we know this isn’t another trap?”

 

“He seemed sincere to me.”

 

Emma shrugs. “We’ll hope for the best. If not, I know someone here who throws a pretty decent fireball.”

 

Regina just gives her that look that is probably supposed to say _I am not amused_ but actually tells Emma she totally is but just doesn’t want to show it, because her mouth always quirks up just the tiniest bit at the corners despite her best efforts.

 

“Lead the way, then, Miss Lucas.”

 

“You know, Regina, we’ve known each other for like thirty years. You could probably call me Ruby.”

 

She doesn’t wait for a response, just turns and scampers into the woods, leaving them to follow behind her, so she misses Regina’s answering grimace. Emma laughs at the expression.

 

“Kids today, huh?” Emma says in faux-sympathy, and Regina rolls her eyes.

 

“Excuse me for actually having manners.”

 

“Has anyone ever told you you sometimes totally sound like a sixty-year-old wom-o _h wait_...” Emma says, grinning, and she only laughs when Regina shoots her a death glare in response.

 

“I can’t believe this might actually be so easy,” Emma says, pushing a branch out of the way as they continue to follow a few feet behind Ruby.

 

“Yes, well, don’t count your chickens just yet.”

 

“I’m not. I’m just saying.”

 

“I thought you would be more excited.”

 

“To finally be rid of you?” Emma shoots the brunette a teasing glance. “Oh, I can’t wait.”

 

And that’s true. Sort of. Though a part of her is also disappointed, but Emma’s not even touching _that_ box right now.

 

Emma half expects a crack about the feeling being mutual or something like that, but apparently Regina’s done with the subject because she doesn’t say anything more for a few seconds.

 

And maybe Emma’s getting a little nostalgic or soft or whatever, but she suddenly wants to be honest with Regina about this thing. So she shrugs a single shoulder and mutters, “It wasn’t so bad.”

 

And yeah, okay, it’s not Shakespeare, but it gets the point across. There’s honestly a part of her that’s enjoyed the last few days, and she’s not just talking about the part of her that’s always up for proximity to a hella gorgeous woman. She enjoys their friendship - she can definitely call it a friendship now, without fear of successful contradiction - and wants Regina to know that. Still she avoids Regina’s gaze after the confession, not wanting to reveal too much.

 

And what she doesn’t expect is Regina’s soft, “No, it wasn’t.”

 

Before she can decide whether to answer, Ruby comes to a stop in front of a particularly large tree.

 

“Here we go,” Ruby says, gesturing toward the tree.

 

Emma squints at the tree, wondering if she’s missing something. All she sees is bark and some limbs and-are those _eyes_?

 

And suddenly the whole tree is shrinking and shifting, and then it’s a tall man standing in front of them, a few inches over six feet, eyes of forest green, and a thick beard of tangled vines falling to his knees. The beard Emma is particularly grateful for, since she’s pretty sure this is one naked leshy.

 

He doesn’t look particularly frightening, though, and Emma almost can’t believe he is the reason for this immensely powerful magic.

 

“He welcomes you to this area of the forest,” Ruby says.

 

Emma looks back and forth between Ruby and the leshy. “Wait, can’t he talk?”

 

“Not exactly. Not here.”

 

“But the day of the curse-” Emma breaks off.

 

“We both heard voices we attributed to him,” Regina finishes for her.

 

Ruby nods, peering at the leshy for a few seconds before answering. “He can only imitate your voice saying words he has already heard you say. Here, he has no voice of his own. He can only communicate with me because of the wolf thing.”

 

“Huh,” Emma says.

 

Regina says nothing, just waits as the leshy clearly communicates more with Ruby.

 

“He wants to explain. He’s been here in the forest all alone for weeks. He was bored and lonely and wanted a playmate. The trap was supposed to chain you to him, not to each other, and it should only have lasted two or three days at most. But his magic is all messed up here.”

 

Emma nods, knowing Regina had struggled with magic being different here than in the Enchanted Forest.

 

“How did you get here in the first place?” Regina asks the leshy.

 

He stares meaningfully at Ruby for a few seconds before she translates.

 

“He fell through a portal of some sort, from his home back in Zutibor forest. And he wound up here. He can show you where the portal is if you can help him get home.”

 

“Um, doesn’t he kinda have something to do first?” Emma asks, gesturing to her wrist meaningfully.

 

The leshy waves a finger, and there’s a soft _pop._ Then he just stands there, staring at them expectantly.

 

“Wait...that’s it?” Emma asks.

 

She takes a few cautious steps away from Regina. Nothing. A couple more. Soon she’s about fifteen feet away, and she hasn’t felt so much as a warning tingle. It’s almost a letdown, how easily this all went.

 

Not that she wants to engage in some huge fight with some ridiculous tree man. She’s getting really tired of the endless supply of villains this town has to offer. Honestly, who could be next? The fucking Wicked Witch of the West?

 

But today? Today, a curse was broken willingly by the caster, and they might actually be helping him get home.

 

She shoots a questioning glance over at Regina, who shakes her head in response. Nope, no pain over there either. They’re officially free.

 

“Um, wow. That was easier than I thought it’d be,” Emma laughs awkwardly. “Thanks,” she adds, looking directly at the leshy, and he nods.

 

“He wants to reiterate his apology for the accident.”

 

“No problem. Just wondering, though. Why didn’t you just break it that day, if it was so easy?”

 

A few seconds passed, then Ruby spoke.

 

“He was confused because the trap worked incorrectly. He was still trying to figure out his own magic, and when he sensed you both had foreign magic, he was scared of what you would do to him, so he ran away.”

 

“You are forgiven,” Regina says. “Just don’t try anything like this again.”

 

The leshy nods sincerely.

 

“Now, you mentioned something about a portal?”

 

The leshy turns, and they follow after him. They’re trekking for the better part of a mile, and Emma is starting to wonder if this isn’t all some elaborate hoax. The trees are getting thicker, and there’s barely a hint of sunlight through the trees anymore.

 

Then the leshy stops and points, and _there_. There’s a circle of the lightest blue, almost transparent, and the air within it shimmers. It is so faint, Emma may not have even noticed it were she not looking.

 

Regina steps closer and peers at the circle.

 

“It does appear to be a rift of some sort. Presumably it is staying open until whatever went wrong is repaired. It should reseal itself once you find your way back to the Zutibor forest. But you can’t get through on your own?”

 

The leshy shakes his head.

 

“Emma, come here.”

 

Emma steps up, and Regina motions her to the other side.

 

“We’re going to need your magic. I need you to focus,” she says, continuing with the specifics Emma should concentrate on in order to make this work.

 

Emma feels the magic ready, running through her veins and jumping in her fingertips.

 

Finally, Regina nods, and their hands form mirror images of each other on both sides of the circle as they simultaneously pour waves of magic into the circle. The blue glows brighter and brighter until it’s practically neon. The shimmering grows more intense, and the rift suddenly buzzes with energy.

 

Eagerly, the leshy moves toward them with a questioning gaze, and Regina steps back, gesturing for Emma to do the same.

 

“It’s ready. You should be home as soon as you step through.”

 

The leshy turns back to Ruby for a moment, and she translates for him: “He says thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The leshy steps through the portal, and no more than a single second elapses before the portal flashes white and disappears without a sound.

 

Emma stares at the spot, looks around for anything that would indicate that something went wrong, but nothing happens. The forest looks completely normal, and no portals reappear. Finally, they all turn back to the path that will lead them out of the woods, Emma and Regina leading the way, falling in side-by-side with Ruby trailing behind. The silence stretches until Emma breaks it.

 

“Well, that was…”

 

“Anticlimactic?” Regina suggests.

 

“Yeah, pretty much. I kind of expected something, I don’t know, bigger. Not to mention you-” Emma pauses.

 

“I, what?”

 

Emma rubs the back of her neck nervously. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. You were so...I dunno, _nice_. It was kind of weird.”

 

Regina laughs, thankfully not offended. “I _can_ be nice on occasion. I thought you were aware of this by now.”

 

“Duh, I know that. But to someone who’s done something bad to you? You’re not exactly known for your...forgiving tendencies.”

 

“Valid point, I suppose,” Regina concedes. “But it was an accident after all, and he seemed quite young. I think he was more confused and lonely than anything. I also didn’t want to upset him. Anger and confusion are not good when mixed with very powerful but unstable magic, especially when we don’t know how to defend ourselves against it. Peace seemed like the best solution.”

 

“That makes sense.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

Later, after they’ve dropped Ruby off at Granny’s, there’s an awkward pause as Emma decides where to go next. She should probably head to the mansion and pack up her things. They’ll both be heading to work after lunch, and it will be easier to just get it over with now.

 

When Emma pulls up to the 108 Mifflin, she automatically waits for Regina to exit the car and falls into step beside her, then laughs to herself.

 

Regina glances over and raises her eyebrows questioningly.  
  


“Just realized what I was doing,” Emma says, gesturing to the almost non-existent space between them. “It’s so weird. Being free again. I could just stop right here if I wanted.”

 

So she does, just because she can, but Regina ruins the effect when she pauses, too.

 

Emma waves her away impatiently. “You’re kind of killing my point here.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and continues up the walkway to unlock the door.

 

Emma feels a tiny wave of exhilaration bubbling up inside her. Because she is going to miss a lot about this, but damn, it’s nice to be able to dictate her own movements again. And she’s not going to miss the pain either, because that was some seriously messed up shit.

 

“Ha! Isn’t that great?”

 

“What’s great is that I’m no longer required to be subject to these crazy whims of yours.” In direct contradiction to her words, though, she waits until Emma has caught up before she enters the house.

 

“I thought I’d head upstairs and start packing,” Emma throws out as Regina veers off toward the kitchen.

 

“So soon?” Regina frowns, turning back to her, and Emma stops in her tracks. Because despite how close they’ve grown over the past few days, Emma just assumed Regina would be excited to have her house Emma-less and back to normal again. But she sounds almost disappointed, and that makes Emma’s heart start thumping way too hard in her chest.

 

“Yeah,” Emma starts, keeping her tone breezy. “I thought it would be easier to do it now, instead of waiting until after work tonight?”

 

Regina purses her lips.

 

“You know, I did prepare that guest room specifically for you, and you only got to spend that one night in it.” Regina pauses, and Emma just stares, thinking this cannot possibly be going where she wants it to. “You could probably stay a little longer. Perhaps until your birthday? I know Henry would like that.”

 

“Regina, I-” Emma swallows. “Listen, I’d love to. You probably already know that. Living with my parents isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. But are you really okay with it? We can’t go giving the kid everything he wants even if it makes you uncomfortable.”

 

“I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to having you around,” Regina shrugs casually.

 

Emma feels her mouth start to lift in a smirk. “Yeah, being handcuffed to someone for a week’ll do that. Well, that or just make you want to kill them.”

 

“That’s an occasional side effect, too,” Regina says with more than a hint of snark, and weirdly enough, it’s that snarkiness that convinces Emma that she’s sincere.

 

“Well, on that note, just know that if you wake me up before 7 tomorrow, I might actually murder you.”

 

Regina laughs, husky and loud, and it rolls over Emma’s spine like a caress. “Duly noted.”

 

-

 

They do dinner at Granny’s with Henry and the Charmings, and Emma breaks the news about staying with Regina and Henry for a while longer. Henry is, of course, ecstatic. Her parents take it better than she expected, and weirdly, when Emma stands up to use the restroom, Mary Margaret follows her and gives her a hug and tells her she’s happy for her.

 

David and Mary Margaret decide a celebratory night is in order in honor of their newfound freedom, which when you are a happily married couple from the Enchanted Forest, apparently means a game night complete with fruit punch.

 

Regina tries to decline, but she winds up being won over by Henry’s puppy dog eyes. The kid is pretty irresistible, to be fair. Emma’s got a similar look she might be able to pull out sometime, but she’s kind of afraid Regina will just laugh in her face.

 

They’ve just finished cleaning up a long game of Monopoly (which David won, surprisingly), and her mother is trying to make a case to Emma as to why they should stay for a round of some other game. But as she starts to explain it, Regina walks toward the kitchen, and Emma watches her go, the rest of Mary Margaret’s explanation lost in the background. Mary Margaret notices her distraction, so she glances behind her at woman standing in the kitchen, then back to Emma, her expression amused and maybe a little...smug?

 

Mary Margaret says nothing, just looks at her, eyebrows raised, and finally Emma breaks.

 

“What?” she asks, because that face is seriously weirding her out.

 

“You do realize you two aren’t bound together anymore?”

 

“Obviously. Why?”

 

“Emma, you’ve barely left her side all night. You sat right next to her at the dinner table at Granny’s, you rode in the same car, and you both sat together during Monopoly.”

 

“Yes, well, someone had to make sure she didn’t cheat,” Regina says, sliding into the conversation with easy snark, having returned from the kitchen with a glass of water.

 

“As if,” Emma scoffs. “You were one who insisted on being banker. Everyone knows the bankers are the ones who can’t be trusted.”

 

“I’m fairly certain I know how to handle money and property by now.”

 

Emma just grins back at her, stops only when Mary Margaret mutters something under her breath and walks away.

 

“That was weird,” Emma comments.

 

“Well, she _is_ your mother. You had to get it from somewhere.”

 

Emma reaches out and smacks Regina lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, rude.”

 

**Day Seven**

 

It is completely insane to miss someone sitting beside you at work when the most she ever did was make insulting remarks under her breath about the incompetence of your co-workers.

 

Yet Emma finds that to be the case. She misses her mayoral posture, the ridiculously speedy typing, the crinkle she gets between her brows when looking at something particularly complicated. (Not the way she sometimes tapped the desk with the fingers of her left hand, though. That drove Emma _insane_.)

 

Emma pushes through, though, because she’s an adult. She’s the damned sheriff. She can make it through a day at work without pining. Mostly.

 

Sometime after three, Henry shows up, and Emma grins at the unexpected sight.

 

“Hey, kid! I didn’t know you were coming over. What’s up?”

 

“Are you staying?”

 

Emma’s smile falls into a frown. “My shift ends at six, so I’m probably staying until then. Why?”

 

Henry shakes his head. “No, not here. At the house.”

 

 _Oh_. “Only until my birthday in a couple days. Like we said last night, remember?”

 

Henry shrugs. “Yeah. I know. I just thought you might want to stay longer.”

 

“Well, it’s not my house, kid. Why would you think I would stay?”

 

“I dunno. It’s just...kinda nice, you know? The two of you. Together.”

 

“Your mom and me? Henry, listen-”

 

“I don’t mean like _that.”_ He rolls his eyes, and Emma holds back a laugh. “I just mean that both my moms are in the same house. We’re all together. Like a real family. Why can’t we just stay that way?”

 

Emma swallows and feels warm over, wants to reveal that she longs for that more than anything even though it scares her. But she does the next best thing and tries to explain. “Of course I love spending more time with you, Henry.” She uses his real name for special emphasis. “But it’s your mom’s house. Hopefully I’ll be able to get my own place soon, so it’ll be easier when you come stay with me. But I can’t ask Regina to let me stay in her house forever.”

 

“I asked her to.”

 

Emma is curious despite herself. “What’d she say?”

 

“What you just said.”

 

“Oh.” She feels unreasonably disappointed, but what else did she expect?

 

“Sorry, kid. I’ll be home for dinner tonight, then we still have a couple more days, okay? It’ll be great. We’ll see if we can talk your mom into watching Iron Man tonight.” She tries to cheer him up with this, and he just gives her a look like he knows what she’s trying to do and isn’t having it.

 

“I guess. “ He shrugs. “See you tonight.” He waves at her, leaving Emma to her work once again.

 

-

 

Later that night after Henry is in bed (post-Iron Man, which Regina did approve, even though she rolled her eyes and said “ _Again_?” like she didn’t know what she was going to do with them), Emma finds Regina reclining alone in the living room, a book in hand. She’s moved on from _Pride and Prejudice_ and is now reading a different book Emma can’t quite make out the title of from this angle.

 

It doesn’t really matter, anyway. Something’s just been bugging her all day, so she needs to know the answer.

 

“Why my birthday?”

 

Regina peers up questioningly from her book. “What about your birthday?”

 

“Why did you want me to stay until my birthday? It just seems kind of random.”

 

Regina shrugs. “No particular reason. It was coming up, so it made sense.”

 

Emma chews her lip, knowing it’s a lie, but why would Regina think it necessary to lie about this?

 

Before she can decide whether to press further, Regina sighs. “Let me guess. Lie detector?”

 

Emma just shrugs one shoulder like _What can you do_?

 

“That really is inconvenient sometimes,” Regina comments as she stands. “Fine. I’ll tell you. It’s silly, probablyl. I just didn’t want you to feel awkward about it.”

 

Emma waits, a little discomfitted.

 

Regina presses her lips together once before she finally says, “I didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday.”

 

Oh, damn it. She’s going to cry. Emma hates crying in front of anyone, but she can feel the urge welling up as Regina continues in that shy, earnest tone she gets when she’s letting her walls down and showing someone she really cares about them. Usually the only time Emma hears her use it is with Henry. But it’s so soft, and now it’s directed at _her_.

 

“I remembered what you said last year, about how you blew out the candle on that cupcake and Henry showed up, and brought you here. And _obviously_ I know you won’t be alone this year. You have your parents now; your mother wouldn’t allow it even if you wanted. And the entire town will probably be at your party. But it’s not the same. Henry...he brought you _here_. And I thought...that you should know that we, in particular, care about you. That was going to be my present: a key. So you can stay here as long as you want. Because you are always welcome here and you always have us.”

 

Emma can’t get her voice to work at first, can’t speak around the lump in her throat. But finally she bursts out, “ _Dammit_ , Regina.”

 

Regina startles, rearing her head back slightly at Emma’s sudden outburst.

 

“I’m sorry.” Emma presses a hand to her forehead, starting to pace. Her heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of her chest. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just- you can’t- no, not you, not your problem, _I_ can’t-”

 

“Emma?” Regina questions, and Emma blows out a frustrated breath.

 

“I’m sorry. This is my issue, not yours.”

 

“Emma, what issue? What’s wrong? You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, of course. It was only an offer.”

 

Emma laughs under her breath, and it might not be a laugh so much as maybe a sigh or just the result of the fact that her lungs don’t seem to be working right anymore.

 

“You say things like that, and I want...I want them to mean something more than what you mean. You know?”

 

Regina blinks. “I don’t understand.”

 

“It’s just-” Well, here goes. So much for a life of board games and nighttime chats and expensive coffee and family time. She has to go and be all _honest,_ which is probably going to ruin everything. But there’s no way she can live here full-time and go on pretending this thing between them is totally platonic on her side _._ And finally admitting this gives her this jumpy sensation of being equally nervous and relieved, and she can’t seem to stop the words once they start. “I’ve had these feelings for you for like forever, and lately with being so close to you all the time, it’s only gotten worse. I mean not _worse_ , ‘cause it’s good, but it’s also obviously not _better_ , because I’m trying not to fall in love with you here, and cards on the table, I’m doing a really lousy job.”

 

“Emma-”

 

“And then sometimes you look at me or you say something like that, and I- it does things to me.”

 

Regina inhales audibly, almost like a gasp, and Emma stops, suddenly wishing she could shove all the words back in her mouth. “ _Shit_. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. Now it’s just gonna be all weird and-”

 

“ _Emma_.” Regina finally breaks through, and Emma stops mid-ramble. She turns to look at Regina, waiting. Waiting for the kick back, waiting for her to rescind her offer to live in the house, for everything she wants to be taken away. Because that’s what happens. That’s _always_ what happens when it’s Emma.

 

But Regina doesn’t say anything, just stares at her.

 

“What?” Emma finally questions.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I allowed to talk now?” And Emma can’t quite make out her tone. Because it’s partly annoyed, partly serious, partly...playful?

 

So she just waits, her palms damp as her fingers toy with the loose thread on the pocket seam of her jeans.

 

“Emma, I want to be sure I understand you before I answer here.”

 

Emma nods.

 

“Because I think we might be on the same page.”

 

Emma’s pretty certain her lungs cease operating entirely.

 

“Just to check,” Regina takes one step forward, then two, until they’re so close Emma can smell her her hair, the honey and coconut, and her fingers itch to reach up and touch it. “If I were to kiss you right now, you would be amenable?”

 

Emma doesn’t even answer, not with words. She doesn’t think words would come to her right now even if she tried, and action has always been more her thing anyway.

 

What she _does_ do is lurch forward those final remaining centimeters and touch her own lips to Regina’s.

 

Regina gasps, her fingers curling involuntarily into Emma’s shoulders. Like maybe she wasn’t expecting Emma to take control like that, but her enthusiastic response is enough that Emma wishes she could support herself against a wall because she isn’t entirely sure her legs are going to hold her up. She shuffles forward instead, leaning into the other woman, and Regina presses back. Her body is a contradiction of lush curves and sharp angles, and Emma wants to explore them all.

 

Her nerve endings are buzzing with sensation like she’s never kissed anyone before. Regina’s soft, soft hair is finally underneath her fingertips, and she can’t stop running her fingers through it. She can feel Regina’s hands clutching her even closer, feel the vibration as one of them moans into the other’s mouth, and honestly, at this point she isn’t even sure which of them it is.

 

It’s somehow blurry but crystal clear all at once, the first touch of Regina’s tongue against hers, the way she tastes of wine and cinnamon, the hitch in her breath when Emma’s palm skims against the side of her breast.

 

Emma is the first to break away, leaning her forehead against Regina’s as she gets her breath back before she says, “For the record? I’d say I’m pretty okay with it.”

 

There’s a pause as Regina catches up to her response, and then she’s laughing and they’re kissing again, and it’s difficult because they’re both smiling and there might even be a couple tears, but they make it work.

 

Regina pulls away first this time, and she finds both of Emma’s hands and pulls them into her own, seemingly content to just stand there and breathe.

 

“While we’re on the subject,” Emma says after a few moments. “I’m kind of crazy about you.”

 

Regina laughs softly. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

 

Emma feels a warmth in her chest, then, an expanding she isn’t sure what to do with.

 

Regina squeezes her fingers gently, and it is unlike their touches from the days before. Those were friendship and support and reassurance, but this is different. It’s _more_. It’s _I’m touching you because I want to_.

 

Inexplicably that video of that kid going, “Is this real life?” pops into her head, and Emma feels the hysterical urge to burst into laughter. She holds it back, sort of, but she still smiles and shakes her head ruefully.

 

“Man, we have the weirdest timing.”

 

“What do you mean?” Regina asks, drawing back just a bit to look at her inquiringly.

 

“Well, the first time we met, it was because we shared a son. And now we’re going to start dating, but only after we already moved in together.”

 

“Dating.” Regina only says the one word, and Emma’s heart stutters. And so, apparently, does her tongue because she suddenly can’t get a full sentence out.

 

“Um, yeah, I mean, I thought we- I’d like to- If you want?”

 

She ends on an inquiring note, knowing her question got across even if the exact words didn’t.

 

“Of course. I would love to go on a date with you. I only realized that I’ve...never really dated.”

 

“Seriously? Never?” Emma says, but then her brain catches up, and it actually makes sense. From Daniel - of whom she knows the basics from her mother, though one day she wants to hear Regina tell the whole story - to the king. After that, well, she can’t imagine the Evil Queen doing the whole dinner, roses, and candlelight thing.

 

Regina shakes her head. She opens her mouth like she’s going to explain, but then shuts it again. Emma thinks that maybe Regina’s not quite ready to be this open, and that’s fine. She has stories she’s not quite ready to talk about out loud yet either. They have time.

 

So she brings her right hand, still entwined with Regina’s left, up to the brunette’s cheek. “I’m willing to try if you are. Fair warning, though: I have my issues, too.”

 

“We can figure it out together, then.”

 

Emma nods, smiling. “Together.”

 

**Day One Hundred and Two**

 

Emma’s phone dings while she’s on her third episode of _Pretty Little Liars_ in a row, because yeah, sometimes she likes to binge on trashy teen dramas. Regina’s head is in her lap as she pretends to read the latest Stephen King - the woman really does having surprisingly varied reading taste - but Emma knows she hasn’t turned a page in at least thirty minutes. She is caught up in the world of A and the girls, too, but Emma won’t say anything until later. Until she can kiss the blush away without worrying about Henry walking in on them.

 

They’ve had a good run so far, with only a few bumps along the way. Emma can’t wait to come home from work (which, for the record, has all-new computers and a private network she can access from her personal laptop) every day. She didn’t even have to explain bisexuality to her mother, because apparently the Enchanted Forest is more open-minded than Emma would have anticipated, and she had been shipping the two of them since Neverland. She even used the term “shipping,” which led to a discussion wherein Emma learned way too much about Mary Margaret’s newfound obsession with _Phantom of the Opera_ fanfiction.

 

Emma’s phone blinks at her again, drawing her back to the present, and the screen announces the new email is from Henry. Emma frowns.

 

“Isn’t Henry upstairs?”

 

“Yes, why?”

 

“He just emailed me.”

 

“I wonder where he got his laziness from.”

 

“If you’re trying to imply it wasn’t you, I will remind you that you slept until almost _nine_ today.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t have if _someone_ hadn’t kept me up up half the night.”

 

Emma snorts. “Like you were complaining.”

 

“Oh, far from it. I just needed my rest because it’s going to be your turn tonight.”

 

And it’s a good thing Emma’s sitting down, because she’s pretty sure her legs just turned to jelly. They do that when Regina uses that low, seductive tone, and the woman is well aware of it. She just smirks and turns back to her reading-slash-secretly-watching activities, and Emma taps her phone’s screen and opens the email.

 

 _Mom’s birthday is next month, and she told me once they used to do this in the Enchanted Forest. Just in case you need an idea_.

 

A link is directly underneath, so Emma clicks on it and starts reading.

 

_Handfasting is an traditional ceremony wherein the two participants are bound together with ceremonial cord as a tangible representation of their vows to be bound to each other for life._

 

Emma scrolls down, and yep. The whole thing is about the different types of handfasting, from current day to hundreds of years back.

 

“You’re hilarious!” Emma shouts at the top of her lungs, and she hears Henry’s giggles all the way down the stairs. Regina swats at her thigh as a reprimand for her volume, but Emma just catches her fingers absently and winds her own through them. Regina hums in contentment.

 

Emma adds the link to her bookmarks anyway, for future reference.

 

Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I actually quite enjoy James Joyce, but when I tried to think of authors Regina might dislike, Joyce jumped to the front immediately. I developed an entire headcanon centering around the fact that I think Regina would have found him annoyingly self-indulgent and unnecessarily verbose. I had an entire diatribe written in my head at one point, but I decided not to subject you all to it. Also, it’s possible I sometimes think too much about fictional characters.


End file.
